


Something About The Clouds And Her Mixed

by NidoranDuran



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, F/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:08:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 37,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24414892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NidoranDuran/pseuds/NidoranDuran
Summary: Harry's means of coping with Cedric's death involved him getting jacked so he would be ready to take on any threat his way, and circumstances pull Hermione and him into a relationship. But as Harry takes his studies more seriously, will Hermione fall deeper into how his new body is making her feel all kinds of silly things that good, smart girls shouldn't be feeling at the expense of her studies? Anonymous commission.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Harry Potter
Comments: 27
Kudos: 313





	1. Good Girls Cuddle And Study With Their Boyfriends

The moment that Harry got back to the Dursley house--a place he shuddered to ever consider calling home--he felt like he had a mission. Felt like there was something vitally important riding on his every action. Every moment alone he'd had was one of guilt and terror. He watched a friend die, carried his body back while evil reborn began to threaten the world from the shadows. Voldemort had returned and a new war had claimed its first victim. A year of growing closer to Cedric Diggory had ended in horrible tragedy, and Harry felt driven to do something about it. Bring Cedric back wasn't going to happen under any circumstances, so instead he looked at the next best thing.

Avenging Cedric.

He set down his bags in the room that the Dursleys said was his, but which never felt like a room or like home at all. Just a place. Not even the place he'd 'grown up'; that would be the broom closet that they were afraid enough of him to not try to cram him into anymore. He had been a malnourished and scrawny little boy then, but now, Harry was different. He was more forceful and whole a person, with ideas and convictions, knowledge of a world better for him and that would accept him. Life at Hogwarts with friends and a healthy diet had been good for him.

Been good for his body. No longer the spindly, malnourished wisp moving silently from one place to another, Harry had been heavily invested into sports. Four years of Quidditch had given him some firm shape to be in, a bit of definition. Stamina. That felt like the key now to Harry. At Hogwarts he could learn magic, become able to defend himself. But if he wanted to be stronger, he needed to be stronger in all ways, and so as he got his bags down, he just as quickly headed off down the stairs. "Going for a run," he muttered, not caring if anyone heard him, and then he set down into a sprint along Privet Drive.

The Dursleys all rushed to the window to see if he was truly going for a run at all. They even prodded t his possessions to make sure they were still there. A run. Such a normal thing to do. In a kingdom of suburban mundanity like Privet Drive, a run was a suspiciously normal thing to be doing with his day. It was the strangest thing, the Dursleys watching him go, murmuring among themselves in judgment about what he was doing.

Harry was sure they were watching and remarking on it. He didn't care. He just ran, shedding all worries. His awful technically-his-family family didn't matter to him. Cedric had shown him more kindness than they ever did. Another world awaited his return, and Harry had learned by now that that world was the one worth caring about. Worth defending. And now, with a threat approaching, defending was exactly what Harry needed to be ready to do, and to do that, he'd get himself in shape. Get himself ready. His blood was pumping, his every footfall loud and hard and sending shots of adrenaline surging through him. Harry didn't want to let anything get the better of him again. He could lie awake in bed staring at the wall and letting the past taunt him, or he could rise up and do something about it.  
*********************************  
By the time Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place, he looked different. In a mere couple months, Harry had grown in substantial ways, and puberty did well to mask all of it, as did a bunch of baggy, ill-fitting clothes. Dudley's hand-me-downs mostly. Clothes the Dursleys would have thrown away, but Harry had outgrown his own clothes and needed something bigger, but cut off from the Wizarding world and with no way to get to Gringotts, he didn't have the money to get himself any clothes of his own. Underneath the deceptive masquerade of a fat teen's clothes was a secret. A secret Harry didn't necessarily jump right into exposing to anyone, having no immediate need to let people know.

But he was jacked. Through the time he spent at the Dursley house, all he did was work out. He went on runs constantly, hit sit-ups and push-ups and anything he could think of in the room. He used his luggage as weights and even 'offered to help' with heavy lifting and yard work just to get the extra time and exertion in. Nobody thanked him for the help he gave, of course, but he did it. It wasn't about thanks or about getting them to like him, although he did notice his dinner helpings were getting a bit bigger when he did. Which suited him well; he needed the energy and the protein. All that ended when he was sent up to his room for a month by Petunia and kept there for 'reasons', but he didn't stop his exercise. He just refocused it.

Underneath Dudley's old clothes was a strong, muscular body, but not one Harry cultivated to show off or to impress people, so he kept it under wraps, and as he finally had a chance to see familiar faces, all Harry really wanted was to be around friends again.

"I'm just happy to be back," Harry confessed to Ron as he sat across the table from his friend at long last. He struck a more strong and firm posture than usual, back straight, everything tight and ready. "It's nice to see you again. To see anyone."

Ron nodded. "I'm just glad you're okay. Everyone's been worried about you. I didn't want to leave you alone, but mum said we had to stay away. Dumbledore’s orders this time, otherwise we would have found another way to come rescue you."

The way he'd been left to fend emotionally for himself did bother Harry, and all the ways he was kept chained up continued to not sit so well with him. "It's okay, I don't blame you." He could have been angrier about it, though; Harry had been coping fine enough on his won to not feel betrayed by what the adults had done. It let him focus on his exercise.

"So how are you doing?" Ron leaned in closer.

"It's tough." Harry wasn't about to play 'strong' in front of Ron. "I've had nightmares about him. More than a few of them, and they haven't slowed down. I'm doing everything I can to move on from it.'

"Do you have any ideas?'

"Make sure nobody else dies." It was blunt. Harsh. Harry didn't feel like he could offer up any other answer than that one.

Ron let out a gasp at that, shaken by the words and looking down at the table. He was ready for heavy. He wasn't ready for that, and a weird, clumsy silence hung over the room a moment as he tried to think about how he wanted to follow that up, finally asking, "How do you th--"

"You're safe! Harry!" Hermione flung herself into the room, freshly arrived and throwing her arms around Harry, pulling him into a desperate hug. "You're okay. God, I'm so happy to see you. Harry, I've been so worried."

"I'm happy to see you too," Harry said, arms fumbling to hug her as she latched in against his side. "I've missed you."

The long Hermione held the hug, the more she began to notice the sensation of something she hadn't been expecting. His chest felt firm in ways it shouldn't have, his body overall much broader than it was; she was observant enough to know he was bigger, and it confused her, made her fingers press against the hardened muscle in subconscious peeks and curiosities. The hug went on just a little too long, held a little too firm, as Hermione remained indecently enthralled by what she felt.

"I've been safe too," Ron said, breaking the awkward mood with a joke. "Thanks for asking Hermione. I've been great."

"Ron, please," Hermione said. "Harry's been isolated from us for two months, and left alone after what happened. This isn't the time for jokes."

"If I get locked in an attic for two months will you hold a hug on me for that long?" Ron snickered and teased as he sat there, noting the way Hermione was still clung up to Harry's side, making her finally conscious of how long she was holding herself there and urging her to finally let go, blushing and coughing and trying to push all the embarrassment aside.

"Sorry, I got excited," she said, voice soft and small as she sat hastily down and tried to ignore how she had just acted with such grand, inappropriate nervousness. "I've been worried.

Harry shot back a smile and a nod. "It's okay," he said, oblivious to the ways she had been feeling him. He was just happy to see her again; Hermione’s presence was a welcome change of pace, and he was warmer for being once more around his friends. "I'm really just happy to see you both. I've had a lot of time to think about Cedric and what happened, and what I feel most coming out of it is that the people I care about are the most important thing in the world to me. Being away from everyone wasn’t easy, but now that I'm back, I don't want to let go."

Harry's words did a good job of pushing all the awkwardness and jokes off to the side. Harry was firmer. Stronger. The degree to which he stood ready and prepared before them was a bit startling, but Hermione and Ron were happy to know he was doing better. He was changed, clearly, but he seemed changed in a better way. He had a clarity that surprised them, but their expectation of him had been one of a Harry completely worn down and depressive, so this was leagues better than the expectation and than their greatest fears. That had to count for a lot. Maybe he came out of this stronger and better.

He may have been bigger, he may have had new appreciation for his friends and a steeper sense of what he would do for them, but as far as everyone could tell, Harry was still Harry, still falling into the conversational groove with his friends and fitting back into what was normal. Similarly, everyone else was still the same too, in their own ways; Hermione was still a proper woman with her clothes all neat and covering, buttoned up and prim as could be, just as Ron was joking around, aa bit ragged in old clothes that fit him as poorly as Harry’s did but without the excuse of being a temporary solution. Everyone fell into old habits and familiarity, which may have been what the three needed as they inched closer toward a return to school.  
************************  
For Hermione, the normalcy had become a bit of a deception against her. She pushed out of mind the way Harry's body felt and by the time things were back into the groove she found herself easily losing sight of it; Harry wore ill-fitting clothes when she first met him too, and it called back to those same early days in ways that had her feeling a little bit more expecting of things. Everything fell easily by the wayside, distractions she didn’t need to pay much mind to, problems she was easily able to skip away from. Harry was doing better, and that was what mattered most, allowing her to push from her mind other things and to lose the distractions that could have challenged and tempted her.

Until she saw him in a towel.

A few days of hanging around had Hermione in a good groove. The only times the trio weren't hanging around was when chores had to be done, Molly Weasley directing her children to clean, directing adults to clean, and even getting Hermione to help in certain places. She was mostly working on organization, and had been chipping away hours a day at the Black family study and its many bookshelves, sorting things back into place as she dusted the left-still and neglected area. Harry was often told to simply relax though, Molly not wanting to put the boy through much of anything.

It was in that time that he typically dealt with his exercise. Harry couldn't as easily go for runs here; everyone was far more protective of Harry and weren't about to let him head off for sometimes hours at a time dashing around London. He understood it, even if he didn't like it, and so he threw those spare hours into exercise, running through the intense regimen he'd developed locked in the room at the Dursley house, one that translated well here. Push-ups, pull-ups, makeshift weights, sit-ups. Anything he could do stationary that felt like it was working.

When he was finished his work-out, he headed to wash off. A long, hot shower was the best benefit he could get, washing away the aches and cleaning up so he wasn't muggy and sweaty afterward. He took his time in the shower, then simply crossed the hall over from the bathroom into the room he and Ron were sharing with a towel wrapped around his waist. Generally, nobody saw him, but Hermione had sought some retreat from the dusty study and wanted to see how Harry was doing while she took a break, and had opened his door to peer in on him. He wasn't in there, and as she turned around, she found herself greeted with the glorious sight that had been eluding her notice for a long time now.

Harry had put on a lot of definition and a lot of bulk over the summer. He had a much stronger and more muscular physique, and he had the frame now to put it on. Downright built and looking almost like a bit of a god, the sight made Hermione's breath catch, and not just from the impropriety of accidentally seeing him in a towel. And the towel... Her eyes didn't mean to drift down like they did, but she saw the way that something was pressing against the front of the towel, and she may have been a good girl but she was no idiot. She knew what it was, and judging by the time of that bulge, it was something absolutely incredible.

Hermione's legs nearly gave out.

"I'm sorry, I was just coming to see if--" Hermione tried to think of the words that were supposed to follow that. She failed miserably. "Time." She managed that much. It did little to help. "I have some time." She should have looked away, but her eyes kept falling on his chest again. The strength it took not to look lower took incredible power, but she was at least able to keep on with that.

Harry tilted his head. He didn't think nearly as much of the weirdness, but saw her flustered response as being a lot more worrisome. "Sure, but I need to change into some clean clothes, and those are in my room. Can I..." He pointed to the doorway Hermione's body occupied, hand pinching at the towel to make sure it stayed in place as he hung there longer than planned.

"Oh, yeah, sorry! Of course." Hermione dashed out of the way, and Harry walked back into the room, closing the door behind him and leaving her to pant in confusion and dismay. She had just embarrassed herself, but more than any of that, Hermione had no idea what had gotten into her. She wasn't the kind of girl to just start drooling over the sight of a handsome guy or go clumsy and awkward over muscles. She had been perfectly fine in the past even taking a professional athlete as a date to the Yule Ball. But somehow, this had thrown her. The sight of Harry's bare chest and the implication of a big dick had her shaky and clueless, afraid of whatever weird spike of frustration was hitting her.

Collecting her breath outside the rom and trying to feel out her frustrations to the best of her power, Hermione wasn't sure what she was doing or how to feel about it. She just felt like she had to try and do something to keep her head on straight as she looked around her, awkwardly hoping nobody else saw that. She was confused as could b, but she had to push it away.

Harry was only a minute. A minute wasn't long enough at all for Hermione to shake the weird feelings and push herself back into focus. Not at all. "Sorry to make you wait," Harry said, deciding not to bring up whatever had taken over Hermione and got her so flustered. Now fully clothed and wearing some old Dursley cast-offs, he was ready to move on with his day. "Is everything okay? I thought you were dealing with the books."

"I needed a break, it's so dusty in there." Hermione found her footing again, even as she started to study how the clothes fell upon his body with her eyes more closely. "I'm just lightheaded from breathing it in." A lie, but a good one. She was back on her feet, thinking again and figuring out how to best work through all her frustrations.

"That's fine, I'm not up to anything, so we can just talk." Harry opened the door up wider and invited her in, and Hermione was happy to walk in and take him up on the offer, even as she struggled under a bit of a foggy temptation to veer into other topics.

"So, uh. You've been working out." She shuffled about on her feet. "That's why your clothes are so much bigger and baggier now."

"They were Dudley's," Harry explained. "I've been meaning to go buy myself some new clothes, but it's hard when I don't have much freedom to go outside. When I can do my school shopping at Diagon Alley, I'll try to visit a muggle clothing store on the way. Or have an Order member take me. I don't like having to do that, but I do need new clothes."

Hermione nodded in understanding. "it's not great, but I think it's better for everyone if we keep you safe. That Dementor attack sounded really bad, and we're going to have to be careful anywhere we go." The conversation was a welcome one; it helped pull her from the nervous thoughts she wasn't so eager to deal with as they sat stranger upon her. "But new clothes sounds good. I always feel better when I have a nice, fresh, completely clean set of clothes to put on. Face a new school year looking professional and neat."

"I wouldn't mind looking good, too," Harry said. "I know you take being neat seriously, but you can look nice, too. I thought you were stunning at the Yule Ball, but I don’t see you dressing up nicely often."

Hermione felt a blush rush on back. Devastating and hot. She wasn't prepared for what quivered up through her as Harry commented on how nice she looked, but she was absolutely certain that the idea that she looked good and should show it more hit strangely. It was a comment a lot of guys would have been chewed out for making, and rightly so, but Hermione found herself in a weird position here, not sure how to compose herself but feeling lost to a strangeness and a lightheaded excitement she couldn't place. "Thank you," she said. It was all she could say, and even it came out strained and awkward, the uncertainty rising inside her as she opened up to the strange remark and felt herself falling into a strangely compromising position here.  
**************************  
The rest of Hermione's day had continued on as normal, right up until her head hit the pillow. The second she closed her eyes, she was thinking again about him. Her thoughts returned to Harry in a powerful way, and she was suddenly, shakily unable to deny that there was a weird creep of hunger and a pang of want that she didn't feel the least bit prepared to face. "Not now," she groaned, rolling over and shifting under the covers. The thought of what she'd seen shouldn't have stayed with her. The things he'd said shouldn't have lingered as they did.

"Harry," she muttered to herself. There wasn't a whole lot that made sense about what she had seen and how this had gone, but Hermione found herself in a compromising position and with absolutely no support or sense to spare herself the worst of these realizations. She had looked at her best friend like a big hunk of meat and for some reason, she was liking that. It stood in the face of everything she knew and thought, everything about her still-being-discovered romantic sensibilities. She didn't fully have a sense of herself, but Hermione was certainly attracted to kindness, intelligence, things that were more intangible and more important than looks. Harry was certainly capable even if he wasn't a genius of any sort, and he had a heart that was truly great.

So why had Hermione taken so long to come around to 'noticing' him, and it was over big pecs and a big dick?

Nothing about this sat well with Hermione, and she was stuck with no strong way to push those worries aside and address her issues. But logic wasn't helping her here; seeking an answer based on this evidence all led pretty upsettingly to ideas she didn't like at all, so she instead just tried to shove those thoughts away and ignore the whole matter, to abandon the process and seek the hopeful bliss of an ignorance that involved putting away everything that that happened and moving on with her life as best she could. It felt like all Hermione could do. Carry on, pretend she saw nothing, hope that things got normal again.

But the world had forgotten what normal was.  
*************************  
Nothing really felt normal until Harry was back on the Hogwarts grounds. There was no real sense of calm or normalcy to save him from the weird reality of how crazy his summer had been. The personal growth he'd taken, the ups and down of the Dementor attack leading into the almost-expulsion and a trial meant to screw him over, the idea of Sirius's family home being a place Harry could return to and call an actual home. An emotional rollercoaster after an already volatile situation to end his last school year on. There was so much and Harry struggled to process it all day by day.

But Hogwarts? Harry knew Hogwarts. Harry loved Hogwarts. It had felt like a home to him when nothing else did. The first place he ever truly felt he belonged, and it brought with it a day to day normalcy and monotony that felt reassuring now more than ever in the strange times he was living in, and all Harry really wanted to do was get back to that normal at any cost.

Sitting up in the Gryffindor common room just felt right. It was loud with familiar voices and full with familiar faces, as well as of course the myriad of stunned first-years. It was normal and sensible and just felt so intriguing that Harry was happy to lose himself in all of it, sitting at the old wizard chess board opposite Ron and playing a game while Hermione rummaged about through the year's reading material before their first class had even begun.

"We have a very difficult year ahead of us," Hermione said, fingers flipping through the book quicker as she tried to strike a steady and capable pace. "The more I read of these, the more it's clear that we're going to be under more pressure than ever here. We're going to need to study a lot if we want to get through the O.W.L.s with good marks and continue into later years. I suggest we schedule some group study sessions; we're going to need them this year more than ever, these won't be easy."

Ron wasn't really having any of that. "Yeah, I'm so glad we get to hear another lecture about how we need to study and classes are hard. We haven't even had a class yet; you're thinking about our exams at the end of the year. Get your head out of the book for a change and stop being so boring, tonight's supposed to be a happy night."

"Boring," Hermione said, slamming the book she held shut so hard that it made several nearby people jump up from their seats in surprise. "Caring about my future--caring about the futures of my friends, for that matter--is just boring. Good. Wonderful."

"No, Hermione, come on." Ron sighed and waved and tried to brush it off. This was his chance to save face. "I don't mean you're boring. I just mean you'd be better if you stopped being such a brainiac all day with your face in the books." Ron did not save face.

Hermione didn't say anything word. She just picked up her thighs and walked off, a silent storming-out from the common room that had Ron mumbling and stuttering, wondering how to follow that up. He tried to call, "I didn't mean th--" out to her as she left, but shouting only drew attention. He looked to Harry for guidance, saying much lower, "I didn’t mean it that."

Harry looked Ron in the eye. He could tell he was telling the truth, but that didn't help much. "I'll go check on her," he said. "Just leave the game here for now, okay?" He rose up from his seat and headed toward the stairs in pursuit of Hermione, moving quicker through the crowd of people. His new size helped him greatly; Harry cut a larger figure now and people were way more ready to get out of his way as his rapid steps carried him away. Nobody needed to be in the path of a man like him, and he had space to make up as he pursued Hermione.

Fortunately, he found Hermione simply one flight of steps up, sitting by the first year dorm rooms, book bag down at her feet and the tome she'd been holding held tight against her as she wavered and swayed. She wasn't quite crying, but the clear discomfort and doubt that she wore was unmistakable; Hermione was hurt by this and didn't know how to push on through that. She didn't even look up toward Harry at first; she was just confused, clenched and unsure and wishing she knew how to shoot back words to Ron.

Harry didn't say anything at first. He simply sat down beside her in silence, letting her take the initiative to say something or move. Sitting next to her had a clear sentiment though; he left Ron behind to check on her, caring more about if she was okay than about continuing his chess game, in some way siding with her over Ron. It helped, and Hermione's head leaned in against his shoulder as she let out a trembling, uncertain sigh. "Harry..."

"Ron shouldn't have said that," Harry said. He let an arm slip around her shoulders. It was a friendly gesture. Firm. One of reassurance, not thinking about the idea of how Hermione was suddenly flush against his strong body and if she might want that; he was selflessly and unthinkingly focused on making her feel better. "For a lot of reasons, obviously, but I can think of one really big one, and I think that's the one that's worth saying."

Hermione remained quiet a moment. Just leaned against him. Harry was warm. What she felt wasn't the sudden flare of volatile emotions and embarrassments again. Just calm. Warmth. The care of a friend who was always there to help her. "What reason is that?" she finally asked. She wanted to know, trusting in his power to make her feel better.

"That you are the brightest. The smartest. Not just witch; nobody else can stand up to you, Hermione. You're brilliant, and your brilliance has saved us so many times that I don't know how to count all of them. Being so bookish isn't a bad thing. Caring about your future so much isn't boring. It's what makes you amazing, and what makes me adore you so much. Ron said stuff he shouldn't have, but you shouldn't let it get to you, because the things he insulted are why--"

Overbearing emotion pushed Hermione into a state that she was ill prepared to face, and she responded to it by shoving herself at Harry. Her hands grabbed his head and turned it toward her as she pushed her lips against his, urged by something drastic and dizzy. He kept making her feel things she wasn't used to and kept pushing her into places where she had to learn about herself in startling and foggy ways. But now, readily, she kissed Harry, giving him thorough, desperate, hungry joys that accepted a need burning inside her. There was no restraint here, and she was happier for that.

Harry didn't expect the kiss, but he loved it. His hands settled upon her too as he leaned into it. Spontaneous as it was, he couldn't pretend it didn't feel amazing, that letting his lisp meet hers wasn't a strange kind of perfect. It made them both feel better, Hermione through the joy of his affection and the kindness of knowing he truly cared, and Harry through knowing he could help Hermione after what Ron had said. It lasted as long as Hermione wanted it to, and as she pulled back, she felt clumsy and shaky.

"Do I apologize?" she asked before taking he first breath.

"What? No." Harry shook his head. "Why would you apologize? You didn't do anything wrong, Hermione, I... I'm really glad you did that, actually." This was happening. He drew his own nervous breaths, and Harry knew there was only one way this could all go. "You're amazing, and I meant every word, and what I was going to say before was that the things he insulted are why I love you."

"You were?'

"Do you remember when I said that I don't want to lose people I cared about? Well, part of that is that I don't want to hold back the truth about how I feel. I wanted to wait until school to say it, but Hermione, I've thought a lot about my feelings for you, and I think of you as more than a friend."

Usually, Hermione knew what to say. Here, she was a flustered mess shivering through more surprises and confusions, and the only way forward was to shove herself against Harry and drown again in kisses. She was at a loss for words, clueless, knowing only that she felt joy in meeting his lips and that as long as she had that, nothing else was important. Hermione had her priorities and her focus firm, and she knew the way forward. Clearly saw it and understood the process laid before her.

"I love you too," she finally said. Saying it felt good. Freeing. She held tighter to Harry, knowing she was going down a path that was all the more exciting for being able to express it openly, and she wanted to embrace more. "And your words helped me a lot. It's nice knowing someone loves me for my brains. Sometimes I feel like people are just jealous or think I'm silly for caring about things like that. But you're really helping me now."

Harry's fingers threaded in through hers, and he held her tight against him. "I'm happy to, however many times you need me to say it. And to say anything else you want to hear, too."

"Like what?" Hermione asked. She was trembling now. Harry's body felt soothing and warming now, and his strongly defined chest was perfect to lean against, to accept as something perfect and firm.

"Like that I love my girlfriend, Hermione Granger, and that I'm proud to be dating the brightest student at Hogwarts."  
*******************************  
The idea of a normal that involved Harry and Hermione dating felt more normal and more straightforward than either Harry or Hermione was expecting. They sank into a groove at the start of their school year that seemed almost too simple to be real. Ron copped to his apology, and Hermione forgave him, but only while clinging to Harry's strong arm and getting a bit dizzily lost in how firm it felt. At the same time, all of her summer guilts about his body and getting worked up over it happily melted away; the ultimate driving factor had still been Harry's kindness, so it didn't matter if she had a sincere, good-hearted boyfriend who happened to be a hunk, right?

They went about things like classes without any worries or obstacles. A few stares here and there, some snide comments from the Slytherins. But those didn't matter. They came from people who didn't matter, and Hermione was able to push their voices away. They were sensible enough in class; a few caresses of hands here and there, but they didn't go about snogging in the back or passing notes; they were still focused on their class work, and if anything, being with Hermione made Harry take his studies a little more seriously too, wanting to make sure he didn't catch any flak from his girlfriend for slacking off. It was a good balancing factor for them.

But they could curl up in the common room or even up in a dorm room when they weren't in class. Cuddle. Make out. Everything was chaste by design. By Hermione's design, mostly. "No sex," she said. Firm. Confident. "I don't want to do any of that. Not at our age and not this quickly. I'm saving myself." It was reasonable enough; Harry wasn't going to object. The feeling of Hermione's body against his felt perfect as it was, and he was happy to lose as much of the day as Hermione had patience for just holding her close. Kissing her. Muttering to each other in low and lazy tones while they nestled in for a love that all felt sweetly calm and restrained.

There was something sweet and perfect and just right about lying tangled up in harry but not doing anything. Her fingers felt guiltless pressing against his chest through his clothes. There was just a warm comfort to being in his strong arms and in letting him hold her, and Hermione was sure it was still maybe a bit weird and questionable of her to be so caught up in things she should have been smarter and better than, but she did her best to ignore those concerns and remind herself of how nice it felt to do smarter things.

"Okay, next question," Hermione said. Books were scattered all over the bed, the two of them sitting in preparation, Hermione reading off some study question of her own devising for him. Writing helped her commit to memory, as did saying it, so quizzing Harry formed a good way to get in study time herself. "In addition to the mandragora, name three other flowers and one type of plant commonly used in human cooking, that mandrakes can frequently take on the flowering traits of."

Harry looked up at the ceiling and away from his books a moment. "Nightshade, peony, foxglove. And then for food, alliums."

"You got it," Hermione said. She marked that one off. "You're really doing well with these!" She looked excitedly at him. "I've always wanted to have someone I can do study tests for, it’s such a good way to study, but the research in making the questions gets me to memorize the answers, so it doesn't work so well for myself."

"I'm having a lot of fun with this," harry said. "Well. Okay, we're studying. Not 'a lot' of fun. But this is good. Especially when it's with you. Maybe if I do well on a test, we can talk about letting hands go places?'

Hermione gave a sweet laugh. "You're going to need more than one test to start pushing lines," she said. "But maybe." Playing coy and biting her lip, she took a look at his body again. She kept doing that. It was too nice for her own good, and she was doing everything she could to keep to her morals and her decisions about remaining a virgin, but his teasing was definitely getting her to have doubts. "And maybe, you can do well on tests because it's good for your future, and because you've spent a lot of time studying so results come naturally."

"That too, that too."

"Okay, next question. The inclusion of raskovnik in certain truth telling potions is because of what property for the magical herb?"  
*******************************  
It wouldn't have been a year at Hogwarts if there weren't some weird, early twist and bother to get in the way of everything, and this year's was named Dolores Umbridge. The hate she inspired within Hermione was grand, and she kept slipping bits and proddings into the day to day about how Harry should do something to help retake the course of teaching students defense against the dark arts given her refusal to. After all, the world was more dangerous than ever; it was very likely that they wouldn't simply be studying it for theoretical reasons.

Every moment spent in the classroom under her oppressive presence made Hermione hate just a little bit harder. She needed desperately for Harry to realize the problems here and act on them, and she was getting a little desperate. Harry was nervous, but this stood as his chance to actually do what he was talking about in a way, wasn't it? She wished he'd realize that, wished he'd act on the craziness and do something bold. But maybe Hermione was the one who needed to do something bold here.

She told him to meet her in her bedroom for another study session. Hermione was truly desperate now, and she told herself that the desperation was the only reason she was doing any of this. That she was acting for the sake of making Harry act, and that this was simply the easiest way to do it. When Harry came in, he saw her knelt on her bed, not a book to be found. "What are we studying today?" Harry asked. What a funny reversal of fortunes things had become.

"I want to talk to you about the study group again," Hermione said. "And I want to make you a deal."

Harry let out a sigh, hands falling to his sides as he geared up for another trip down this road. "Hermione, look, I just know if this is a good idea, there's a lot of eyes on th--"

"I'll suck your cock if you do it."

The hasty interruption almost sent Harry hurtling over back in surprise. He rushed into the room, closing the door behind him, skittering forward in shock. "Are you serious?'

Harry's response definitely didn't do anything to help keep Hermione from getting flustered. His haste was a bit of a shock, throwing her and making her wonder if he hadn’t been waiting all this time solely for the chance to do this. He'd been okay with not having sex, but he was all too happy to hop onto the first chance he got.

No, these were Hermione's boundaries. She was letting them down; he was accepting it. This was fine. Hermione pushed those worries down and nodded. "It's a big step, but if it means you'll do this, I'm prepared to do that with you. B-but only that! I want to keep my virginity. I just think that it would be fair, if you did something that you were nervous about, if I did too."

"That makes sense. If you aren't comfortable, you don't have to, but... If you did, I would absolutely do it. That seems only fair." Harry seemed understanding and reasonable even here, pacing himself and not getting carried away by her words and their enticing offer. It made Hermione all the more fitful and confused; Harry was just doing everything right and she was stuck toiling in the weirdness of dealing with her good natured hunk of a boyfriend as she tried to deal with all the weird justifications and excuses she kept making for herself.

"Lie on the bed," Hermione said. She was going to do this. and as Harry moved across the floor, her eyes fell onto his body again. Again. She kept doing this. Kept falling into the trance-like state of just looking at is muscular form and feeling herself overcome by waves of potent desire. But this time, she was going deeper. Or lower, as it were. Ever since that compromising towel reveal, she had been ready to push thoughts of his penis out of her mind and not worry about it. Now she was going to see it bare. Going to find out how big it really was. The thought shook her a little bit, but she was ready to do it, ready to see her crazy idea through.

Harry lay on the bed, his legs spreading out a little bit, and Hermione settled down in between them, hands going for his pants and undoing them, starting to tug them down and out of the way. Her hands were firm and aggressive, digging in against his pants and seeking out the secrets she'd been intentionally holding herself back from. She felt a little dizzy seeing it out to begin with, reaching for his cock and allowing herself to embrace the strangest of pleasures.

Lying comfortably back, Harry did his best to let her go for this at her pace. "If you ever feel uncomfortable, we can stop," he told her. He was caring, controlled. Everything she loved about him. It reminded her what she was doing, how much she loved Harry the man and how shallow and superficial pulls weren't defining anything that she was--

Fuck.

Hermione's fingers grasped around the base of a half-rigid cock she found herself barely able to fit her grip around it all. Pulling it out slowly, she found herself greeted with a cock bigger than she knew what to do with, Harry hardening in her grasp, rising to full mast, and what Hermione found herself faced with was nothing short of glorious. Her body tightened and she shook under the confusion and the joy of seeing such a grand, proud cock begging now for her attention. "Your penis is really big," she said, voice shaky and uncertain as she stared down at him, wondered how she was going to handle his cock while knowing that she absolutely needed to give herself up to it.

Confusion set aflame the bookworm, her mouth watering at the sight of his cock and at the thought of letting herself give in to it. Her hand pumped along his shaft with slow and uncertain motions, trying to find a confidence in the face of complete embarrassment, wishing for reason to prevail and for some understanding to shine through. Hermione was a good girl. A virgin in over her head and with no idea what to do. She even called it a penis. There wasn't a shred of looseness in her as she pumped along a cock she could barely fit in her hand, and Hermione knew she was way too far out of her comfort zone, but she was committed.

Maybe this cock was the kind of intimidating that gave her second thoughts. But it was also a cock so grand that it made her want to defy all those and prove she could handle it. She was in a place of confusion and need and burning desire, driven to lean forward and begin planting kisses onto the head of his cock, staring down at him. Harry was more than big. Calling him even really big was an understatement; he was hung like a horse, gifted with a cock that filled her with questions about how he kept this thing hidden, but also with questions about how much she'd have to push herself to handle him.

This was only a blowjob. Hermione reminded herself again of that, pushing all her thoughts away and re-insisting upon pushing forward and sinking into the pleasure, starting to more aggressive tend to his shaft. "I'm not completely sure what I'm doing here," she said, but her tongue did its best to find a cadence and an approach she could get behind, soft moans rumbling as she offered up so much to the pleasure. "But I'll do my best for you."

"You already feel great," he told her. Harry kept bringing around a way with talking her through this that made her body shiver. Remaining calm and understanding, Harry was happy just feeling the caress of Hermione's hand along his cock. The kisses were a welcome joy too, bringing on a lot of the pleasure and the desire he craved. For him, having Hermione do anything with him was a joy, and he wanted to let this all soak in slowly, carefully. Harry wanted to let the pleasure build, and the idea of letting himself sink into these joys grounded him into a spectacular rush of desire.

Swallowing her nervousness and trying to let the moment take her away, Hermione tried to focus on the moment above all else, and the gut impulse taking her involved wrapping her lips around his cock and pushing forward. She didn't know what she was doing here, and that was a weird, startling sensation for Hermione. She was used to knowing what she was doing, but she felt clueless here, making for the clumsiest blowjobs he could have offered, giving up to something she hoped would make sense and would be sensible. She wanted to make him feel good, but she had little clear idea of what she was doing or how to see it all through.

Still, Hermione sucked lower. Her fingers gripped tighter around his shaft as she started to bob her head in acceptance and concession to pleasures that she wasn’t prepared for in any way. She kept her mouth open wide, accepting as much dick as she could, focusing on the pressures and the wild throb that hit her so firmly, a dizzying mess profound heats that she had to match. The taste of his cock was surprisingly enticing, and the feeling of the hot shaft resting in her mouth made her want to take him on deeper, but she had to pace herself, restraining her desires and keeping on a weird groove that didn't entirely make sense to her. But she did it.

Harry's groans of pleasure were the enticing fuel her nervous mind needed. He enjoyed this, the low moan of her name rumbling past his lips and making Hermione almost tremble in surprise. His fingers began to run through her hair and caress her cheek, toying with Hermione and playing with an affection and a lust that had Hermione giving into a lot more excitement. There wasn't a whole lot of sense here, unreasonable joys and wants that hit on a specific and senseless note. The pleasure was there, guiding her now along with the ecstasy and learning what pleasures she could find in the process.

Clumsy as this was, Hermione was getting there. She felt around with her motions, learning her limits and not taking his cock too deep, hand working along his shaft quicker. Some licks lower along his shaft made it slicker for her hand, which pumped along the cock too and added on to the commotion, seeking a pleasure she felt more comfortable and prepared for as she worked with the continued firmness upon the dick. She had a sense of what needed to be done, and Hermione was prepared to see it through, working deeper, moaning around his shaft and allowing him to feel the steady swell of growing desire that would surely be his undoing.

This wasn't so bad. Hermione didn't feel like a bad girl for doing it, either. Maybe it was how normal Harry was being as he brushed some hair out of her face and said she was doing amazing. She felt warm and adored, completely under control and doing her part, and even if this was sex, it wasn't 'sex' sex. She still had her virginity, that counted for something. Holding tight to the reaffirming sense that she'd be fine, Hermione allowed the pleasure to storm through her mind, dominating her thoughts and imposing a wild rush of something that she didn't really know if she could face. The ceaseless throb of hunger felt perfect, just creeping over her, demanding so much, leaving her craving.

Harry did everything he could o hold back, but his fingers kept wanting to do more, wanting to pushdown against the back of her head and urge her deeper. He restrained himself well, but the growing frustrations were intense, demanding, begging him to do more and pleading for the sweet release and relief of more. He groaned, head rolling back, feeling overbearing throbs of pleasure hit him ever harsher, hotter, bringing him to a sense of delight and of hunger too grand to resist. "Hermione," he warned, fingers tightening on the back of her head, and in a moment of weakness, he pulled her down.

Hermione choked as she felt her head forced down his cock, as she felt him penetrate her virgin throat. She wasn’t ready for it, trembling in surprise and heaving under the sudden force of his push, the thrill and the heat of being held down as he came down her gullet. her hands grabbed his hips, hastily seeking a push back and a shove away, but as he held her there, stronger than she was really able to deal with, Hermione felt the creeping rush of an ecstasy she wasn't able to argue with. Hermione felt dizzy, elated, held down on his cock even s she struggled around it, eyes starting to water, head reeling.

As crazy as it was, having Harry hold her down onto his cock and cum down her throat was one of the best feelings she'd ever experienced.

Control caught back up to him again, Harry gasping and tugging his hand away. "I'm sorry," he said, pulling the hand away. "I got carried away there. Are you okay?'

Hermione jerked up from his cock, spit strands falling from her lips, a baffled and dizzy, almost cross-eyed look of elation on her face. "It's fine," she said, and she meant it, shaken as she was. The real worry hadn't been what he'd done, but how she felt as it happened, trembling in uncertainty looking up at him with gleaming delight in her eyes. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Yeah, that was amazing." Harry's hands reached lower, and he pulled Hermione up along his body, sifting to his side and nestling her head into his neck, holding her to his strong firm and giving a sigh of relief. "Thank you so much for that, Hermione. It felt amazing."

"I'm happy to help," Hermione said, closing her eyes and shivering under the warming ecstasy and light of what she had done. It stayed with her, strange as it was, left her almost wanting to go back down and do it again, but she held back and instead lavished in the joy and warmth of her boyfriend's touch and how his loving presence warmed her. It was fine if she gave head. If he gave some too, even. That didn't 'count'. She was still a good smart. A smart, proper, prim, well composed good girl with a big brain and a big heart. Why would it have changed anything?

Hermione was worrying for nothing, which she took as another sign everything was completely fine. Just as it should be.

"I love you, Harry," she said softly. He told her he loved her too, and even if they weren't going to get a damn bit of studying done, she knew she'd done something bigger today, and the studying would come in spades once they figured out what they wanted to do with this self-defence group.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this depravity, why not follow me on twitter https://twitter.com/nidoran_duran and get updates on my new and upcoming stories?


	2. Good Girls Get Jealous and Swoon For Their Hero

Hermione's lips wrapped around Harry's cock, her hands guiding his into her hair. Into her straight, luxurious hair, which had Harry groaning in surprise, shifting about under the frustration and the delight of feeling the softness. "Have you been using Sleekeazy's again?" he asked, at once vaguely concerned but also enamoured by the sight of her enough to not care, as he watched her push down his dick with all the same devotion and desire he was used to from her. He'd meant to ask all day, as Hermione's hair showed off its length without the natural bushiness to it getting in the way, and he was excited and curious about this, even if he was definitely a bit concerned.

Rather than answer, Hermione focused on taking her boyfriend's cock a bit deeper into her mouth, sucking on it with the firm confidence and desire she hoped would push all of his frustrations to the side, leave him instead focused on the pleasure, and not on her hair. Even though she wanted him to absolutely be paying attention to her hair, given the liberal amounts of product she had indeed been using to tame it and keep it down and soft, straightened out like she thought he would have liked.

_Cho's wand had misfired hard enough to send her flying halfway across the room from the recoil. She’d messed up the spell significantly, flung back, and Harry, who stood behind her and guided her in the demonstration, went down to the floor with her, his strong body working to cushion the fall as Cho fell on top of him as he hit the floor, her slender body hardly providing much tightness and pressure to bother Harry. With a grunt, he seemed completely fine, and had helped keep Cho from taking the worst of it._

_The mental recoil of casting a spell only to have her wand blow up in her face had Cho extra dizzy, shifting and twisting about on top of Harry in pursuit of steadiness and balance. "What happened?" she asked. Foggy. Frustrated. As she turned around on top of him, her long hair brushed against his face, tickling at it. Every motion of her head as she dizzily swayed brushed it up against his face further. "Mm, Harry? Why am I on top of you?"_

_"You fell," he explained. Patient. He was controlled and firm, not letting his hands go anywhere they shouldn't have. He was a good boyfriend. But he did hold firm and let her come to reality at her own pace again. "Do you feel alright? I think your wand misfired."_

_"Hm. I feel...." She looked around. She realized she was lying on top of Harry, cheeks brightening up as she stumbled back off of him. A tense, shaky, "Sorry," followed as she looked around. "Thank you for catching me."_

_Harry made sure to rise alongside Cho in case her legs gave out again. "I'm just glad you're okay. You should sit down and wait this out, alright?" Cho started to walk, and indeed, her legs gave out again, Harry catching her. It was effortless. It was ready._

_"I'll sit down," Cho sighed happily, smiling up at Harry, eyes wide as he brought her over to settle down and watching safely, as a friend came to check on her._

_Hermione saw it all happen, and she saw it better than Harry did, she was pretty sure. Harry seemed completely oblivious to just how flustered Cho was in light of his heroic rescue, a sweeping, daring show of swiftness. A lot of the girls were murmuring about it; Harry came off so well in his swift reflexes twice, and everything about it had Cho swooning as Harry walked back toward the group, calling attention once more to how they had things to do, but Cho's eyes remained fixed on him in a different way. Not with authority at all. Jealousy burned inside of Hermione at the mere thought of another girl being 'saved' by her man, but what really got to her and nagged at her thoughts was something about Cho._

_Her long black hair looked so sleek. So soft. She was a pretty girl whose popularity didn't surprise Hermione at all, and Hermione felt a surge of panic it her. A terror. Harry had eyes for Cho before. She could tell as much. If he was to 'notice' her again, especially now that she seemed to be looking at him differently, Hermione needed to do something and do it quickly. She'd be ordering as much Sleekeazy's as she could in the morning; once she got that, she'd be able to make sure that Cho couldn't compete with her by having 'prettier' hair._

As his fingers roamed through her locks and toyed with her scalp now in much broader indulgences than before, Hermione felt like her labours had paid off, like she was receiving all the scrutinizing, lustful attention she needed most. Her eyes looked up softly at Harry, moaning around his shaft and delighting in the way he seemed so eager to accept this pleasure, wanting to keep pushing, wanting to accept these desires. All of them. Every time she came back around to the idea of sucking Harry off, she found herself with that same lightheaded joy again.

The ways that Harry looked at her and touched her made her feel confident in what she'd done, no matter how much it may have been 'wrong' of her to bury her hair under so much product and act like that. She found herself dizzily full of needs and excitement that just had to be let out, and she was unashamed of pushing harder at those intentions. All the pleasures of servicing her man and of paying him for his heroism with her mouth continued through these weeks of indulgence, some nights becoming hazy fogs as she sucked him off several times in a row, too caught up in how much she enjoyed the shaky, lightheaded joy of sucking his cock to mind what she was up to.

Drawing slowly back, hand working in broad strokes along his cock, Hermione said, "I'm really proud of how you've stepped up. You've done so well these past few weeks, and I can see that your heart really is in it."

"It feels good to do something," Harry agreed. "But your rewards definitely help out, too."

The way Harry's smile grew urged Hermione down again, licking at the head of his cock as she met his eyes, holding firm and playing around firmer with it. Worshiping his cock all seemed reasonable. Licking it across its length and savouring the size of his thick shaft. "I'm happy to do anything for a hero," she cooed. "You're lucky to have a girl who knows how to give you exactly what you want."

Harry snickered and nodded. "You sound like Daphne right now."

_"I want to join," Daphne said. She slipped right up to the two while they sat out on the grass studying together, a sheet thrown down and some piled-up sweets helping to fuel the couple's study session. It was Harry's idea; the weather out was amazing, and a picnic on a bright Sunday afternoon to study felt much more romantic than being cooped up in the cramped and noisy common room all day, or the dusty old library. The change of locale was a startling one to Hermione, who found the feeling of a room full of books conducive to learning, but she was happy to see Harry not only take his studies seriously, but also to move in broad romantic gestures like this and bring their studying into focus as a thing they did together._

_But here came Daphne Greengrass now to ruin it._

_"You aren't even taking Care of Magical Creatures," Hermione said stiffly, motioning toward the books they had all laid out to study for a class that almost no Slytherins in this year were taking, after Draco's 'incident' a couple years prior._

_"I don't mean your class," Daphne said, cocking a hip and drawing closer. She knelt beside Harry specifically. "I mean the club you have at night. None of the other Slytherins know yet, I promise. But I do. I've been hearing them talk. Draco is running his mouth constantly, and the Slytherin common room is becoming a very hateful place, and I don't want a part of that. My parents raised my sister and I to not look down on muggleborns, and I've seen older, more hateful relatives. I want to fight that."_

_Harry nodded through all of it, slow and careful. "I'll need some way to know I can trust you," he explained. "But I'm willing to give you a chance."_

_"Harry!" Hermione said, startled by his willingness._

_"He can make the choice himself, can't he?' Daphne asked, swaying. The blue-eyed, blonde-haired pure-blood leaned in against Harry with a big, wicked grin on her face and planted a kiss on his cheek. "I'll be do anything you want me to do to show you can trust me." A flirtatious giggle followed to preface another, "Anything."_

_"Get off of my man!"_

_Hermione was halfway across the sheet already when Daphne drew back entirely, and Harry was putting himself between their bodies. "Daphne, that wasn't necessary," Harry said. "I'm with Hermione."_

_Daphne sneered and snickered. "Relax, Granger. I know he's your boytoy. I just wanted to see you squirm, and find out that you can be the jealous type." She stood smug over them, having accomplished her goal easily. Her hand reached into her pocket and she tossed several pieces of folded-up paper over to Harry. "Here's everything that I've heard about in the tower. Names of who's been bragging, mentions of people saying their parents are in contact with He Who Shall Not Be Named. Anything I think is relevant to you. I'm willing to be your mole inside of Slytherin. Read it, and then decide if you can trust me." On that note, she walked away, giving another giggle and a wave._

Mention of Daphne urged Hermione to suck Harry's cock right into her throat. She didn't need to be pushed, didn't need anything but the sheer mention of that prissy bother to end up slobbering all over his cock. Devotion seared through her as she went, urging herself along the cock and losing all focus and control to pleasure. To the raw, foggy concept of servicing her boyfriend thoroughly. Nothing else mattered to Hermione now; this was subservience at its most shameless, but she felt like the only hope she had of controlling herself lay in giving in to this now and praying for sense in the acceptance of these terms.

It was silly to be jealous of another girl. Any girl, but especially Daphne Greengrass. Hermione was smarter. Sweeter. Some Slytherin snake who, despite feeling bad about her friends' racism, sure was still hanging out with Pansy and still seemed like a bitch to the girls Pansy wanted to bully. Daphne claimed it was deep cover or some shit. Hermione didn't care. Her bitterness had long since gotten the better of her as she pushed harder at the raw, throbbing pressures that washed across her in waves and sweeps of frustration, a bitter pulse of messy heat keeping her needy and frayed.

Every sloppy push forward hastened Hermione's crash into utter pleasure, as she struggled to keep her head on straight while sinking in deeper. Her noisy choking sounds were all so reckless and heated, but she felt confident in what they brought, in the pleasure and the hunger that hit with sudden fire and fervor. She'd grown capable of handling Harry's cock, taking it deep and savouring every reckless, sloppy second of losing herself like she did, not caring about restraint or control as her senses spun off into a million directions all at once. But what was important was that the mere mention of that hussy sent Hermione into a plunge for feverish relief and sloppy deepthroating.

Harry's vocal, ready groans expressed how much he savoured this. "I can't think of a lot of things I wouldn't do if I knew this was the reward. You're amazing, Hermione." From mentioning Daphne offhand to singing her praises in a second. Harry happily fell into line of doing what she wanted him to do, and Hermione remained steady and shameless as she pushed on harder, the ache and the desire is pleasurable. Shameless. As long as Harry was happy, Hermione would be happy in turn, keeping up the pleasure and refusing to slow down the pace she struck, the way she reached into the depths of shameless want and kept him craving more of her.

The feeling of his cock in her throat and the wicked, shameless joy of lightheaded submission proved completely unbearable for Hermione. She brought him closer to the edge, sucking and slurping along, holding strong through every second of this pleasure before she finally made him unravel in her mouth. He groaned, ached, called her name with all the vigor and excitement of absolute delight, and Hermione took every drop, swallowing his load and holding firmly onto the pleasure and the idea that she was capable of driving him mad with her body. She proved it again and again.

"Fuck," Harry groaned as his head relaxed back. "That was great. Another amazing night, Hermione." His fingers ran through her hair again. She trembled holding firm onto his cock as it lingered there. She could feel his cum painting the lining of her throat, his fingers in her hair making her feel needier. Hotter. Wanting to submit and embrace the emotions, to fall deeper. Hermione felt unable to believe this mess of desire and want, unable to control what was now so bare and blatant that she couldn’t keep her head on straight. Lying there in submissive devotion to the aftermath just felt right to Hermione. It was all she knew now, and she was unashamed of the desires that came creeping up alongside it.

When finally she drew back and the spit strands connected her lips to his cock even as she pulled back fully, Hermione was a bit foggy. Messy. But she was proud. Harry was her man. With eyes only for her. "I love you," she said sweetly.

"I love you too," he replied, bringing his fingers down to caress her cheek, too. "And your hair looks good like this."

Hermione's cheek burned bright. She was sure Harry had no idea that she was doing it all for him. It was reasonable to imagine she'd just decided to put a bit more effort into her appearance. And she was. But it was because of all the straight-haired pretty girls she saw as threats. Knowing now that Harry liked her hair that way meant she was on the right track. It may have meant a lot of effort and time to keep it straight, but she'd take it. For Harry's sake and to keep him happily along with her, she was prepared to do anything.  
************************  
"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, catching Hermione on her way out of class. "May I have a moment?"

"Of course, professor." Hermione hung back and shifted about amid everyone else filing out of the classroom around her. "Is everything okay?" she asked, looking nervously at the teacher. She hadn't thought of any need or reason why she would have been in trouble, but that didn't always mean much.

"Yes, everything is fine. I simply wanted to discuss what we talked about at the start of the year, when you asked about looking at old O.W.L. tests from previous years. I appreciate the passion, and would like to offer you a chance to write the written portion of one I conducted a few years ago over the Christmas break. I cannot promise I can coach you through the results, but I can grade it and let you get a feel for the expectations it brings."

Hermione took a moment to even remember that conversation. Months ago. It felt so far away after all this time. She’d spent so long busy with things. A lot of things. DA activities. Harry's cock. Keeping her hair tamed and sleek. Her grades were still golden, but she wasn't on top of things as much as she was used to being, and she didn't like to think that she was losing her footing at all. Just changing her priorities and her focus a little bit. "Oh, right, the test. I'm sorry, I'd forgotten about that. But, I think I'll have to pass. Thank you for the chance, but I'm not going to have time on my break like I thought I would."

McGonagall was startled by that. She'd given Hermione extra credit assignments four Christmas breaks in a row, and she had found time to turn in top notch work each time. "If you're sure," she said, nodding respectfully. "I hope you enjoy your break, then. Will you be going on vacation?"

"Yes, away from everything," Hermione said. A lie, sort of. But not in ways that were entirely untrue. "I'd like to spend that time with my family, and not be buried in books this time. I do appreciate the offer, but my priorities now versus my priorities months ago just feel different now." And yet, Hermione found herself more than a little surprised by the idea that she'd turn down this chance. It would have been big, and at any time previously, she would have felt happy to find that chance, but now, she had other things in mind, other things to fill her day with on top of the work she had to do.

The two parted ways respectfully, and Hermione found herself turning down an extra assignment for the very first time.

"It's fine," she told herself as she walked out of the classroom. "I'm just so busy. Transfiguration is one of my strongest subjects anyway. This wouldn't even be for marks, and I have other homework I need to do during break." With those justifications and hasty pushes down of all her worries, Hermione walked out of the classroom certain of her justifications and ready to move forward on her inbound Christmas plans.  
***************************  
It was the first time Harry had ever left Hogwarts for Christmas break. Boarding the Hogwarts Express amid all the snow brought on a strange feeling, but he was oddly happy to do so, finding himself finally in a position where boarding himself up at school didn't feel so bad anymore. The plan was for Hermione and Harry to spend their two weeks with each others' families, and the Grangers were waiting there at the train station with big smiles and wide eyes, eager to receive the two.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Hermione's mother said, pulling Harry into a big hug. "We've heard so much from Hermione about you over the years. Our daughter's friend, the hero."

"It's nice to meet you both," Harry replied, having been ready for this day. For the surprising twist of actually investing time and effort into meeting a family. Family in general wasn't something he'd ever had, but to meet his girlfriend's parents now represented a great opportunity. Something different and magical.

Extending a hand out toward Harry, her father was just as happy to greet him, and Harry accepted the handshake. "Our daughter's boyfriend, the hero. Which means I don't have to worry about you doing anything to my daughter when I'm not looking, right?"

"Dad!" Hermione gasped.

He laughed it off. "I'm joking. Mostly. We have the cot set up in your room, Harry will sleep on that."

"I'm fine with that," Harry said. "I'm just glad to be spending Christmas with Hermione at all, and with both of you." With a family. He was a bit startled by that idea. He'd had Christmases with his friends. Those were great, but here, he'd have something different. Something proper. He seemed overwhelmed with excitement for it. A big, muscular young man bright-eyed at the prospect of Christmas morning. It was endearing to the Grangers, who found a wonderful first impression waiting for them from Harry. He had every seeming of being a good guy. Exactly the kind of boy they wouldn't mind their daughter spending Christmas with.  
***************************  
"Mm, that was amazing dinner," Hermione said, leaning back in her chair and giving a yawn. The Granger family always had its grand feast on Christmas Eve, giving everybody a very full stomach to sleep well on before Christmas morning, where they would eat a lighter breakfast amid opening presents. "It's been a few years. I missed the Christmas Eve feast." Sure, the Great Hall had grand holiday banquets, but everything about a well-cooked family hit the spot in a very particular way that simply nothing else could. "And it filled me up so much. I don’t think I have room for dessert." Her hand reached toward Harry's a bit, brushing against it under the table and trying to signal to him to take the bait. "Maybe it's an early bedtime for me."

Harry knew what she was doing, and he did his best not to crack a smile, but they had homework to do still. "We should try to get in time on our Potions assignments," he said, motioning toward the book bags resting against the table legs. "We have a lot of homework to do. Especially you, since you have Arithmancy and Ancient Runes homework on top of that. Let's at least do a few questions."

Hermione's expression soured just a little bit, but Harry's hand caressed along her palm with a scissoring motion, which made her thighs tighten up. She knew what that signal meant, too. It was her turn to get a reward. "You're right. I shouldn't get too comfortable. Let's do some studying."

"I never thought I'd see the day someone else coaxed Hermione into doing homework," her mother said. "You two really are meant for each other."

There were a few things different about Hermione, and of course they chalked it up immediately to the fact that she had a boyfriend. She was in a relationship now and certainly seemed like she was acting a little differently. But it was all reasonable enough; sure, their teenage daughter spent more time on her hair than normal. She was still their brilliant, hard-working girl, and the boyfriend she'd brought home to them was one who took their homework seriously and wanted to chip away at it even on Christmas Eve. They were presented with every reason imaginable to think the world of Harry.

The table was cleared away of plates, Harry offering to help with the dishes and wiping down the table while Hermione laid out their 'study collage'. Hermione had a system of orienting books out around her while she studied, bringing together textbooks, assignments, personal notebooks, and blank papers to work with that she found worked best for efficiency. Everything was where she knew it would be, arranged precisely to be in one place whatever it was, and it made her studying and her homework more efficient. Harry had come to adopt the same habits, which her parents didn't think much of at sight, not realizing the real exchange of influences here was one of Harry getting sharper in his schooling, and Hermione's own work ethic beginning to slide.

With the two of them at the table and working on potions homework, none of that came across, though, and the Grangers happily left the couple be to deal with their homework.  
******************************  
Going to bed and pretending they were going to be quiet and chaste was a funny thing. Hermione stripped herself bare under the blankets as she waited and shivered about, thankful and hungry. They waited out her parents going to bed too, listened for the sounds of them shifting about as they settled in for the night, not wanting to do anything before they were definitely in bed and not coming back out to interfere or find them. The second the Grangers stopped making noise, Harry rolled off of the cot and eased himself back into bed with his girlfriend, climbing on top of her and pressing an eager kiss to her lips. "We're going to do this right under their noses," he groaned, his voice rumbling as he kept low and hungry, not wanting to get too carried away or hasty in his desires.

Hermione tugged him in tighter, greedy and hungry and unable to deny the raw pleasures and temptations of giving in to this. Her needs got the better of her. Long since had. The studying had been an infuriating little push away from what she wanted, and she'd found herself stewing in so many pressures, and now she had Harry on top of her, his kisses greedy and forward. They wore her down and warmed her up, giving her the joys she craved. "They love you. They think you're an upstanding young man who'd never do anything untoward to me."

"You're a good influence," he responded, burying her face with kisses and adoration, affections pushing on firmer as he pushed on against her, bringing her so much more, pleasure throbbing messier on by the second. "I was worried they'd see me as ruining their pure little girl, but they've seen that you're still good."

The reminder was nice. Hermione was still a good girl. Still a normal, upstanding young woman. A virgin, no matter how increasingly frequent her 'favours' to Harry were. And now, underneath his body, she was about to get eaten out in her bedroom, her parents over in the next room. "I can't believe I'm the one being rewarded for studying now," she cooed, pressing along his jaw in turn as he peppered her face, adoring her man and savouring how ready he was to love her now in turn. It was the deepest, hottest pleasure, the satisfaction of all cravings and all frustrations. Ready. Bare.

Tracing his fingers along her chest and down her stomach, Harry was happy to tease along her skin, her bared body ready to receive all of his attention and his lust. Everything Harry did was a firm, forward push into pleasures that Hermione couldn't deal with, feeling him tease her nipples and excite her sensitive skin, wearing her down further, making her whole body clench up. The fierce, shaky pulses of desire were stubborn, wicked, and they brought on a mess of emotions that couldn't be stopped now. Hermione was so used to being the one going down on Harry and playing at this; now, he was taking his turn for something different, and her body was an excitable, hot mess of rushing heat, a need she felt completely unable to handle, dealing in desire and frustrations so powerful and wild that she didn't have a shred of clarity or sense in her head.

His kisses passed over her breasts, his body wriggling steadily down her body and approaching the desires and the hungers that came firm and wild. Hermione was happy to lose herself to these feelings, happy to let him take her storm and detach all care from the situation. There felt like little sense or care behind this feeling of unrestrained glee. "I've never had to be quiet before while you do this," she moaned, rumbling with sweet arousal and a growing, hungry desire.

With a much clearer sense of confidence in what he was doing, Harry didn't bury his actions under justifications and certainties. He was focused solely on pleasure and on giving Hermione what she wanted, easing forward and beginning to lick at her waiting pussy, his strong hands finding her thighs and spreading them slowly apart, guiding them open and easing his way in deeper. Harry's newfound strength was one he knew how to use and how to carefully measure out his attention, firm only where he had to be, managing his force and his hands expertly to keep her twisting about under his touch, to keep her losing herself more and more as he invested in pleasures she found herself unprepared to deal with.

"Harry," Hermione whined, low and under her breath as she tried to straighten out and tighten up as best she could for what was brewing within her now. She felt overwhelmed and frustrated, alight with airy pleasures and excitements she was happy to sink slowly into. Being eaten out was always a different sort of thrill than the usual. To lie back and be pampered for a change was something truly wild, a little back and forth indulgence between lovers. Harry wasn't doing anything more to Hermione than this, just keeping it to his mouth the same way she kept it to hers. "Don't go too hard on me. My parents..."

But as Harry began to suck at her clit and pump fingers into her, she found herself clenching up with pulses of a delightful hopelessness. Her body craved what Harry could bring her now, and she was unable to resist the sweet allure and steadily-sinking joy of letting him eat her out with such thorough passion. The pleasure was overwhelming and intoxicating, bringing all the focused, shaky desire she wanted most, and these cravings felt truly unstoppable. He kept up his attention, kept up the focus and the desire he knew would drive Hermione mad, and the more his tongue challenged her, the more she was hopelessly aflame with desires she just had to embrace.

The pump of his fingers kept a steady pace, a consistency that Hermione fumbled with often as she got too worked up and too into what she was doing. Which wasn't to say Harry was into what he was doing; the passion he showed in eating Hermione out was as forward and as bold as could be, his every desire pushing on with the certainty and the devotion that proved the key to make her lose herself completely. But Harry's focus on Hermione's pleasure came with a rigid readiness, a forward sense of exactly how to make her give in to his touch and to succumb deeper, and all she could do was sink into the bed as she came along for the ride, as she accepted the emotions wearing her down. His passion was overwhelming, as he licked and kissed against her with the utter reverence and devotion of a man who understood nothing more thoroughly than his love for the woman before him.

Sensation overwhelmed Hermione. Challenged her with the overbearing thrill of trying to think clearly while getting worked over so much firmer and more confidently. The pleasures didn't let up, and each step of the way she found herself losing focus for the sake of giving in, embracing the desire and the hunger of a situation escalating horribly beyond her control in the best of ways. She seized a pillow and muffled herself with it as her orgasm broke her down, and every desire to be loud and feverish inside of her expressed itself. Keeping herself together was easier said than done for Hermione, and she felt like she was completely hopeless in the face of all this crumbling desire, all the senseless, shaky pleasures that kept hitting her with an intensity that proved its wicked aims hard.

Harry slowed his motions down rather than stopping them, rubbing circles against her clit with his thumb and kissing her thighs as he looked up at her, watched her peel the pillow slowly away and reveal her blushing face again. "You look cute when you're frustrated," he teased.

"I'm glad I got to introduce you to my family," Hermione said, running her hands along his face and showing him some of the same affections he showed her when she was down there. "But I'll also be happy when we're back at school and I don't need to be so quiet about things."

"Well, savour the quiet while you can. It's not going to be any calmer when we visit the Dursleys."

Through the rest of their short trip before the Grangers took their Mediterranean vacation, Hermione spent all of her time either with Harry or with her parents. Harry did his best to get in some homework time during the moments where Hermione was busy spending time with them, but whenever he offered to work through what he'd done with her, she insisted she'd do it later and made out with him instead.  
***********************  
Harry didn't think the Dursleys were going to be kind of Hermione, but he didn't expect the utterly stony silence that she was met with instead. He figured of all the wizards his uncle and aunt had met, Hermione might be one who would be able to at least appear normal to them. A muggleborn girl whose feet were firmly on the ground. No weird tricks, no eccentricities. Hermione represented a normalcy that maybe would be welcome in the Dursley home, would even perhaps make them act like decent family for a time. He hadn't even fully wanted to go, but she wanted to meet them, if only to see for herself what the house looked like. It was sentimentality in a form that seemed not entirely like Hermione, but he accepted it. It was Christmas.

The stony silence at the dinner table changed all of that. It was an absolute drag to sit there waiting and stewing in embarrassment as Harry prodded at his food. Hermione repeatedly almost attempted conversation, and then let it slip away again, fumbling in awkward confusion off into silence again as she fell deeper into her quiet, unable to muster up quite enough care to actually speak up. She ate. She didn't do anything more than eat. Regret came easily given that.

In Hermione's head, this wasn't going to be some amazing family bonding experience where she managed to get Harry and the Dursleys to meet in the middle or anything. The way she saw it, she had brought Harry home, and no matter how much he didn't think it would go well, the mere act of going to meet her boyfriend's family was something that just felt right. Felt like a girlfriend-ey thing to do. In hindsight, it seemed like silly sentimentality and not anything that should have been Hermione's primary choice for a moment, but she found herself oddly compelled to give in to it all, frustrating as that was.

Finally, Dudley, with as big an insufferable smirk as he'd ever shown said, "So how do her tits look without that baggy sweater over them?'

"Excuse me?" Hermione asked. It got drowned out by louder sounds in the room.

Petunia chided her son with a firm, startled gasp of his name. That wasn't the loudest sound in the room either.

At once, Harry jolted up from his seat and slammed his fist on the table. Vernon knew exactly what was going on, and began to bark furiously at Harry to sit down, and what came out of his mouth barely constituted words; just a frothing expression of anger and aggression at the boy to not do anything hasty. Harry had none of it, and the noise he made was intentionally harsher and louder to rise over his uncle as he said, "Don't you dare speak to her like that again!"

Vernon kept screaming too. Kept hollering at him to sit down and respect his rule in this household. He could be loud too, flecks of food shaking from his mustache and flinging out of his mouth. Problem was, Harry hadn't been afraid of Vernon for years; he was ready to stand his ground tis time and screamed right back at him, banging his fist on the table and refusing to hold back, while also motioning toward Hermione toward their bags, sitting by the old cupboard door under the stairs where Harry once lived. He hadn't unpacked fearing something exactly like this.

Dudley could play at being loud, too. "How big?" he hollered at the top of his lungs. "How big are her t--"

The impact of Harry's fist against Dudley's jaw and then the crash of his heavy body and the chair he sat on crashing down to the floor wasn't as loud as all the screaming, but the room had fallen so painfully quiet that it hit with a remarkable clarity. Harry had just punched Dudley so hard it dislocated his jaw and sent him to the floor, and Vernon was up to his feet in a flash screaming even louder and starting toward Harry, but by then things were already in motion.

Hermione was shocked it happened, but she understood the gestures fine. She was up to her feet too and moving toward the doorway. Vernon hollered for Petunia to grab her, but she'd already rushed over to her son to see if he was okay, leaving Hermione able to rush through the doorway and seize their luggage. Harry made sure that his body acted as a shield, keeping distance and making sure that as Vernon rose up and his fists came crashing down onto Harry's back, Hermione was a fair bit further along and able to throw the door open and begin dragging their things out.

"Stop that, Vernon, or you'll go down too," Harry said.

"Don't you speak to me like that." Vernon's hand seized Harry's hair and tried to pull on it, which earned him a back elbow to shove him off, and then, as promised, a punch right to the jaw. He went down even harder than his son did, crashing onto the table and then to the floor to make for an even noisier impact.

Petunia's sobbing upgraded to shrieking as Harry ran. He'd had confrontations with them before, but those had been magical; this was about using his fists, which meant he had nothing to fear in terms of reprisal from the magical world. The muggle officials, however? He knew he had to move. Hermione had most of their luggage to the door, so he grabbed the last bag and also Hedwig's cage and fled out amid the screaming and sobbing, his heart pounding as he ran. It was an adrenaline rush he wasn't expecting, catching up to Hermione. "Follow me," he said.

Hermione looked to Harry with a feeling of absolute shock and a pulsating throb in her chest. Harry had stood up for her dignity without even flinching, throwing his fist at his cousin and then his uncle, treating it with the same confidence she'd seen him treat things like Death Eaters before. Harry left them all flat and then carried her off to safety, and Hermione had never looked at Harry in this light, but for the first time, she found herself swooning over her boyfriend doing something so macho and so aggressive. Harry had shown her something that awoke within her fierce needs. She wasn't proud of feeling like the helpless damsel whose hunky boyfriend had saved her.

But she also wanted to jump onto him, beg him to carry her, and then shag him all night in thanks.

With their bags rolling along the ground and the owl cage swaying as Harry fled, he guided Hermione a few blocks away through the generic stretch of Muggle suburbia, not caring where he took her, but just wanting to wind and twist around off from Privet Drive and away from the Dursleys. "We'll be safe here, we call the Knight Bu--"

Hermione tugged Harry into a kiss. A wild, reedy kiss, shamelessly pulling him in, up on her toes to reach his lips and unable to help herself. "I owe you. I'd suck your cock here if we didn't need t--" She cut herself off and shoved tighter into the greed and the fever of kissing him again, unable to help herself. Harry didn't fight it. Her praise made him feel strong. Made him feel even better. He rolled with the fever and the devotion in her kiss, losing himself happily to what she begged for from him, giving up and not caring about the restraint or the sense, just craving more of her sweet touch against his body.

When the kiss pulled back, he decided to get playful, his hand reaching around front and squeezing her ass, making her yelp as he pulled her in against him. "We're going home," he said.

"My parents are already on their flight," Hermione said, a bit too dizzy and confused to really process his intent at all.

"Not your parents' home," he explained raising his wand. "Grimmauld Place. My family isn't with the Dursleys, it's with Sirius. And now, it's with you."

Hermione was about to lean in to the sweet delight of his words, only for the Knight Bus to startle her into reality again, making her gasp and stumble back as it almost came up over the curb. Hermione had never taken the Knight Bus before, just heard from Harry about his experience with it when he fled the Dursleys two and a half years prior, and she was not ready for the suddenness of it all. Harry caught her, and helped her up onto the bus with a steadiness that made her feel warm again.

From out the doors leaned Stan Shunpike. "Welcome to the Knight BUs, emergency transport for the stranded witch or wizard," he said. "Oh, 'Arry. A late happy Christmas to you. Step on up. Where you 'eading today?"

"Happy Christmas to you too, Stan. We're going to Grimmauld Place in Islington." Harry regarded the conductor with a firm nod as he went fishing through his pocket for sickles with one hand, and helped Hermione with her luggage up over the short lift with the other. He brought his own up, as well as the coins for them to get on. Twenty-six sickles in all, to cover the twenty-two for the way and then another four so he and Hermione could each get a hot chocolate. It was late enough for the seats to have been replaced with beds, which slid and dragged along the floor as the bus began to move again, but some ingenuity and the use of cloaks to tie the bars of two adjacent beds together made one cozy bed for the two of them to settle in on as they drew the curtains.

Hermione didn't waste a second once the curtains were pulled off in throwing herself at Harry. Her hand went right down his pants, and she moved with a fever like nothing she had ever shown before, full of fire and need and a hopeless hunger that she found herself incapable of resisting. Sloppy kisses and a helpless, hopeless push into all the greed and the lust she knew was too grand to pull back from. "My hero," she moaned sweetly, but left him no time to respond as she kept kissing him. She was halfway ready to climb up and lose her virginity to him in a feverish show of utter need, of helpless pleasures that she found herself incapable of holding back. But she resisted the temptation, and began to move lower.

Harry was floored by her greed and her forward, needy nature here. He'd never seen her so desperate for him, but he'd awoken the primal desires within her that he now felt happy to collect on, insane as they were. His body shifted and squirmed as Hermione hastily worked her way down to his lap and sought out his cock. "You're really going to do this here?" he asked under his breath.

Already tugging his pants down, Hermione looked up at Harry with a shaky nod. His hand moved to caress her cheek, as he did, but she opened her mouth and intercepted his thumb, sucking on it as she got his cock out and stroked it to full hardness, drifting up to suck on his other fingers too in a show of reverent foreplay. Hermione had never felt so lightheaded or so wildly, grandly fixated on Harry and on how he made her feel. In that moment, every surge of desire and foggy, ditzy devotion to her man came rushing up to the forefront as his heroic act of punching two men in the face in her honour appealed to a corner of her being that she would never have thought herself vulnerable to. Hermione should have been better than this. She gave in deeper for it.

Her lips drew back from his hand and pushed right down his cock, Hermione starting to suck him off in as public a place as she'd let herself give in yet. Harry muffled his groan as his hips rose off of the bed. They slid and slipped around, sure, but that didn't matter. "This is the dirtiest I've ever seen you," he groaned, hands on the back of her head, rolling with the fire and pushing her down, using her a bit rougher as her lavish praise of his heroism all went to his head a bit, but not as much as seeing Hermione overcome by her lusts. "I like it."  
***************************  
Harry and Hermione arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place with their belongings and a few boxes of pizza from a muggle place they had passed by on the way there. They hadn't finished their meal before the mayhem started, and both were hungry, while also wanting to offer something to whoever from the Order was stuck during the holidays on official business. Their arrival was as startling as anything could have been, but it was also a welcome one, especially once Harry explained the altercation with the Dursleys again, which had Sirius glad that they had gotten out of that situation. There were a few members haunting around; Tonks and Lupin were there, and Kingsley had apparently just stepped out for a bit of late night shopping, so the dining hall became the site of a pizza dinner and conversation.

While they ate, they updated Harry on some of the situations floating around on the front of dealing with Voldemort. Of particular, surprising note was that there had been an attack at the Ministry while Arthur Weasley had been on guard duty, and he'd narrowly avoided an attack from a snake before the other Order member nearby drove it off. Harry hadn't heard any of that, a bit shaken by the news but glad that Arthur was okay, while also looking off to the side, curious. In the past, suck movements by Voldemort would have flashed through his dreams and left him shaken but ready to act on them. He'd felt nothing over it this time. It was something to be worried about, but not now. Not today.

Instead, he got himself settled in for the last week of his vacation with a relived sense that this was where he needed to be, and more importantly, where he felt happy. He and Hermione set up their things and got used to the warmth again of being somewhere where they were welcome. Mere hours with the Dursleys had already worn away some of the happiness of their time spent with the Grangers, but all of that was done away with now; they were happy again right where they both belonged, and when they retired up to bed, clinging to one another after their exhausting day and cooing their sweet professions of love felt like something that had more gravity for all they'd gone through across the day.  
**************************  
Walks proved a good way to get out of the dusty old house for a bit, and the sweet dusting of snow onto the ground during that afternoon made it a perfect time to just wander around, but it was on these walks that Hermione paid notice to something that she was sure Harry wasn't aware off. They would pass by women who dressed much less modestly than Harry did. Whose well endowed chests were up front and flaunted in loose jackets and low cut tops. She caught Harry's eyes straying to their cleavage repeatedly, and it left her with a weird, jealous sense of realization that what Harry wanted and what he was innately, instinctively attracted to, was that. What he enjoyed looking at. It was hard not to see it, and rather than be upset at the idea he was looking at these muggle women, she became resolute that she needed to dial up her own attractiveness for him.

She was winning against the other girls so far, but if all Daphne Greengrass had to do to charm Harry's eyes away was flaunt her cleavage, then she needed to do something about that.

With one foot now in the wizarding world and one in the muggle world, at least for a time, Harry decided he wanted to take Hermione shopping, wanted to get her more gifts. They paid a visit to Gringotts, where Harry made a withdrawal of some more wizard money and an exchange for a fair number of pounds, and offered Hermione a chance to go anywhere she wanted. "I'm happy to buy anything that will make you happy."

"I want to buy clothes," passed Hermione's lips, and it seemed wrong. Seemed absolutely insane. She followed it up with, "But also some books, later. If you're okay with spending that much on me." But in short order, they were at a clothing store, and Hermione was ready to make some moves. She 

What she picked off of the shelf wasn't anything outrageous by any standards other than her own. She plucked off things tighter and perhaps a bit more forwardly attractive than normal; tighter jeans that conformed to her shaper and emphasized her ass a bit more, tops that wouldn't come off baggy or be hidden under sweaters. She was going all out now on things she wasn't in any way sure how to feel about, but she kept doing it, kept picking up the clothes. "These look nice," she said, and Harry nodded along with her. She kept picking things up, burning with excitement as Harry continued to nod his way through letting her get whatever she wanted.

She went to try it all on, and none of the clothes really felt right on her body. Everything hugged her form a bit too much, felt a bit too out there once on her body properly, and she wondered if she'd maybe made a mistake by picking all these up, but nonetheless stepped out of the changing room in one of her new outfits, blushing furiously and asking Harry, how do I look?"

"You look amazing," Harry said, and that would have been a compliment she'd have to analyze a bit, if not for how his eyes fell onto her. He looked at her with an aroused interest she hadn't quite seen from him before. Not like this. He always looked at Hermione like he adored her, but maybe not always with as intense sense that she was a treat for the eyes. Here, now, he stared at her like she was a beautiful woman passing by him. His words said a lot, but his eyes said more, and Hermione's chest tightened as she felt the sweet relief and warning of knowing he meant what he said and meant what he saw.

"Good! Good, I'm going to get these, then." She bit her lip and stepped back into the changing booth, nearly fluttering right to the floor in surprise and excitement over the idea of making Harry look at her that way. It was a good sign she was indeed on the right path, and she took that as all the reason in the world to buy the clothes. All of them. TO wear them. They may have felt a bit odd on her body, but if it would make Harry look at her that way, she'd do it. She'd wear it all daily and dress nicer for her man.

But that wasn't how she looked at it, of course. That was an awful way to think about it. Hermione was becoming more mature, and dressing that way, too. Anything about Harry's reaction she liked was simply rooted in the way she felt when he looked at her that way. Looking pretty because it made her feel confident was still empowering, and she felt confident as all hell as she switched back into the clothes she's walked in with, buying a handful of new tops, jeans, and skirts that weren't what the old Hermione ever would have worn, but she felt better for doing it.

But as she worked toward the cash, she caught some lingerie, too. Fancy, frilly, gorgeous lingerie hanging there. "Harry, if you promise to look away and let me do the buying, and not peek at anything, can I get some of that?" She received a fistful of bills to cover the purchase, picked a couple lingerie sets off the rack, and this time she felt like she was definitely going a bit further out of line, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Harry went off in pursuit of some new clothes for himself too, while he was there, and then they visited Diagon Alley for the rest of their shopping, and that was when things began to sink back into something a little more normal and expected of them. Hermione got some books for casual reading, they both got some ink refills and miscellaneous items for their studies. Notebooks were of particular importance, as Harry had come in under-equipped for Hermione's study methods, and he could stock up on some. From there, it was just little things. Some snacks and treats to bring back to school.

But one final item caught Hermione's eye inside a magical clothing store where she'd stopped to peek in the window. She used her own money for this, startled by it but curious about the idea. A pair of magical training high heels; they started low, and with a brush of her wand along the heel, she could extend it out as long or as short as she wanted it to be. From barely there at all to seven inches long if she really wanted to go that far. It would be a way to learn her way through them. If she wanted to.

Hermione wasn't sure she'd wear heels that often. Wasn't sure there was much need for them. But at the same time, she found herself curious about the idea, and their sleek, red design looked marvelous. There was no harm in having them, and in having one pair that she could wear and scale out as she grew accustomed subtly to them seemed advantageous and economical. So she got a pair, stashed them away in a bag, and left those as a surprise too while Harry picked up food for Hedwig across the street.  
********************************  
It was two days before they were set to go back that Hermione realized she'd made a terrible mistake. "I didn't do any of my work," she gasped, scrambling about and trying to fish out her books. "Shit, shit, how did I get so carried away? Harry, how far along are you?"

Harry gave an awkward shrug. 'I finished all of mine while you were spending time with your parents," he confessed.

"That's okay. Two days. I can do that in two days, right?" She'd already blown so much of the day, though. She'd woken Harry up with a good morning blowjob, then he'd turned her around and ate her out, and then she spent a good hour on her hair. Now it was already after lunch and she didn't have two full days at all. "It'll be okay. It's just homewo--we also have tests to come back to."

"I'll be happy to help you study through those, but for homework, do you want to be left alone?'

Shaken to the core and realizing she had never spent so much time slacking on her studies, Hermione found her confidence a little shaken. But it would be fine. She'd get through this, she knew it. "I'll deal with the homework, and we'll get in study time later. I'm so sorry, Harry. I've been having so much fun with you, and lost track of time."

"I know, it's okay." Harry planted a kiss on her cheek and gave her shoulder a firm rub, encouraging and affectionate. "You're brilliant. You'll get through this; I just know it. I'll go see if Sirius needs help around the house and leave you to this for now, and we'll just avoid messing around tonight so we have the time for that."

A whine caught in Hermione's throat. The idea of not messing around seemed like a fate even worse than failure, in a way. Especially once they'd arrived at the Black family home, the free time, lack of oversight, and decadence had them fooling around several times a day. Her blowjobs had goner well past daily, and now she was about to waste prime hours of freedom without supervision or responsibility studying instead of giving head. For a girl who once positioned expulsion as worse than death, it felt like an insane departure, but she accepted it was what had to be done.

Studying was more important than oral sex, anyway. Hermione knew she just had to get her head back into a school state of mind and rush through this all. It'd be fine. She’d have it all done before she got back to school, and then things would return to a more normal balance again.

Then she opened her astronomy homework, and entire star maps fell out of it that needed labeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this depravity, why not follow me on twitter https://twitter.com/nidoran_duran and get updates on my new and upcoming stories?


	3. Good Girls Copy Their Boyfriend's Homework

"What is the substantive difference between a charm to light a candle, a charm to light a small fire, and a charm to burn down a building?" Hermione was downright incredulous as she asked the question back to herself, feeling silly for having to even ask herself that, but she was stuck in a weird position here, one build on the foundation of absolute frustration and panic. "Scale. Obviously, scale. But past that, there must be--would this be a trick question?"

Aboard the Hogwarts Express, Hermione was a frayed, nervous wreck trying her best to keep her head on straight as she crammed all of the backed up and lost homework she should have been doing, but hadn't been. She was nervous as could be, scrambling to write as much as she could as she scrawled out on the paper, and Harry had never seen homework do this to Hermione. He'd seen it happen before on really big and important things, sure; when they were in a serious sort of danger that demanded the response of frantic research. But this was Charms homework. Harry had watched Hermione turn in essays over ten pages longer than Professor Flitwick wanted without even considering the need to slow down, to see her in such a frantic state now as she wrote up a storm was baffling.

The curtains were drawn to give them some privacy. Ron hadn't even sought them out at the platform, let once on the train, which gave them the free space needed for Hermione to work. Harry didn't mind; sure, drifting further away from his friend didn't feel great, and the growing tensions and frustrations between Ron and them wasn't something he felt good about. But on the other hand, Ron not being with them meant that Ron wasn't there to be too annoying or bothersome. Hermione needed focus, not whatever he'd bring into the equation.

At the same time, Harry wasn't totally sure that what Hermione needed was focus. He watched her write and scramble, watched her fumble through the worries harder and messier. The sight of her in this state didn't leave him feeling good, and Hermione's words did nothing at all to help him out. "If I keep working through the train ride, then I sneak out of the great hall as soon as I'm able to and get working, I should be done with all of this tomorrow. I'll need to stay up late and maybe wake up early to do it, but--"

"Or you can copy my work," Harry said. He pushed his offering forward, interrupting her. He felt like he had to. Everything about Hermione's state felt arduous and awful to watch; this felt like a mercy. Hermione needed help, and he was ready to offer it.

Hermione's response wasn't willfully said so much as it spilled out of her. "Do you mean it?" She shook her head; the words felt weird and surprising, making her doubt what she felt, making her body tighten up. "Well. No, I probably shouldn't, it would be..." She shifted about where she sat, feeling like pride and steadiness was not nearly as close or present as she thought it was, and as she tried to steady herself and express some reasonable words, she found herself stumbling out a desperate, woeful little whine of, "Do you mean it?" This time, it was fully intentional, eyes wide and needy.

Harry look at the mess of books open in Hermione's lap. He wasn't even sitting next to his girlfriend so that she had the space for more books in front of her. "I mean it," he said, opening up his bags and seeking his homework. "How many times have Ron and I copied off of you? Teachers are used to seeing the same arguments and ideas in our work, and they won't know that it came the other way around. So, it's fine."

Harry was right, but Harry was also talking about something so insane that Hermione wasn't sure how to respond to it, and yet she felt desperate enough to accept it. She reached for the paper and nodded, scrambling to write down her own versions of his answers, hopelessly speedy as she rolled with what was happening. Hermione was full of tensions and confusions she really had no space or time to deal with, but she was ready for it, swallowing her pride to save herself. If she worked to get her homework done, perhaps most importantly, she could get more Harry time in tonight instead.

Without needing to wrack her brain, Hermione took to Harry's answers with the same fever and speed she took notes with. Sure, she was rephrasing a lot of his essay answers and working them into her own words, but with the words said, those phrasings fell into place with the utmost ease; she didn't feel like she had to worry about this at all. Everything came smoother, and she found the work vanishing much quicker. Quicker even than the late afternoon light vanishing into wintry evening and the rapidly coming dusk. She moved with an amazing speed as she cribbed her boyfriend's work, amazed this was happening, but accepting that it was a lot better than any of the alternatives she could have been working through, which kept her on track.

"I did most of my work already on classes we don't share," Hermione explained in between sheets Harry fished out for her. "I'll only have Ancient Runes left, but I only have that on Thursday, so I can do the work on a normal basis." She was relieved to say it; it was a plan that sounded far more reasonable in its assessment. "Thank you so much, Harry."

"I'm happy to help. I guess I owe you homework after all this time." Seeing Hermione visibly relieved and relaxed helped him ease up, feeling better about what they were doing and how she controlled her frustrations. It was a good sign that things were getting better, and he was more prepared to feel good about his evening knowing she'd be able to rest and enjoy the dinner. in a state this high strung, Harry had his doubts she'd be able to relax and enjoy dinner no matter how much anyone tried to insist otherwise.

In note taking mode, Hermione's hand was quick, and freed from the need to think too heavily, she was able to write out vast swaths of pages, but her handwriting remained perfectly legible and steady, her hand gifted with a precision that Harry was always amazed by; everything was neat, perfectly set and consistent, and before too long, yet another hour of homework had been vanquished in record time; it was impressive ways Harry didn't know how to fully put into words as he watched her work, but it kept him certain that she'd just let slip her work a little too much; she was fine and still in plenty good shape as a student. Nobody who was this quick at rephrasing and copying work wasn't still brilliant.

Once Hermione's backed up homework was finally done, she felt the relief take her, shoving everything back tidily into her bags, not noticing at first the way that Harry smiled at her. "Thank you so much for that. I feel a lot better now."

"I do too, you basically just checked over my homework. I expected you were going to get a few sentences in, spot a problem, and start correcting it for me, but it seems like I got everything right."

The words made Hermione tense up in surprise. "I didn't find any problems, you did well." That wasn't entirely true. She hadn't done an editing pass on Harry's work at all; she hadn't had the presence of thought or focus to critically consider what she was writing down that deeply. But at the same time, few things helped jostle Hermione's knowledge quite like hearing something so madly incorrect, so maybe it was a good sign. Maybe she was about to turn in some woefully misguided homework. Hermione had absolutely zero idea what she was getting into, but she still had reason to feel like it'd be fine. "I guess my good habits have rubbed off on you. It took a few years."

"I'd say more than your study habits have been rubbing on me," Harry teased, and with a sudden push forward, he pressed against her lips, grabbing the curtain and nudging it even tighter shut as he pushed into her with a greedy, forward kiss. He wanted her to feel the depths of his affection as he held steady, as he made sure to emphasize his attentions upon her. "You worked hard, now I think you need to calm down. Let me reward you for getting your homework done."

The caress of fingers getting under her skirt made Hermione's worries and resistance melt away immediately. She didn't have much focus or sense here to save her from what rushed across her body, demanding so much from her and pulling her into an uncertain rush of wild heat. She didn't have the strength to resist Harry's advances. That was a lot of what had pulled her into the problem in the first place, and now, as he pulled her panties down and her body tightened up, Hermione was ready to sink into this all. She let him pull her panties down. Just plain ones, not having figured he'd go for her on the train, so she didn't dress for the occasion, which now left her feeling the excitement creep over her body, the pulsating want carrying her deeper into a haze and a hunger she knew she needed absolutely everything she could get from.

Harry sank to his knees in front of Hermione, head slipping up her skirt and tongue pushing right up against her mound, showing it the devotion and the love he knew she needed. Harry wasn't afraid of pushing as hard in as he had to, eating her out with the steady devotion and adoration he knew was everything she needed. His tongue worked in broad caresses and strokes against her needs, eyes focused on her desire as he let himself lean deeper into this. "You can just relax back, I'll take care of you." he said, his rumbling groan a wildly enthralling and captivating treat pulling him further in under the weight of what he had in mind for her. He knew exactly how to bring her all the pleasures she craved.

With his head up her skirt, Harry's only choice forward was one that he was shamelessly ready to push. His tongue dragged in broad motions against her, hands reaching for her hips and her butt, lifting her up off of it and tugging her into his face, demanding that she push against him firmer. He wanted to satisfy not only her needs, but his own cravings, desperately shoving his way in and forcing the pleasure into a mad spiral of desire and delight he felt was only getting hotter and fiercer as he let himself lean into it all. There wasn't a shred of sense behind any of this, but as he devoured her, he knew that this might help get her on the right track.

Familiar voices and footsteps moving around outside kept Hermione tense. This wasn't the first time she was having sex in a position like this, but on the Knight Bus, nobody really paid them any attention; they were able to slip on past notice and o their thing without this kind of scrutiny. Now, Hermione was around the constant danger of people they knew. Some Ravencalws who were part of Dumbledore's Army were in the compartment right across from theirs and they had waved to each other before the curtains were closed; should anyone be looking for them to say hi or catch up, they would have been spotted immediately. Even the noisy roll of the trolley was a threat.

But that only excited her harder, helped keep Hermione hungry and greedy as she pushed against all these feelings, pleasures pulling her in deeper. The worry was pure arousal, a satisfaction pushing away against the lingering certainties and worries that always hung over her and pervaded her thoughts; why did Harry put in the same degree of wild fever in going down on her as she did with him? Harry was the hung, muscular stud who deserved to be revered, but Hermione was a flat, plain girl. Why was he so devoted to her? Why was he so certain and so devoted to her pleasure, too? In a weird way, her trusting him was the best argument against ever bringing up her unspoken insecurities; no matter how much she didn't feel great, she believed in Harry's sincerity more than anything.

Every last bit of focus and adoration he paid her was only getting stronger, as Harry zeroed in on the very essence of what Hermione needed, refusing to pull his head out from under her skirt until he got her off. It was a fire and a devotion that had Hermione melting, lost to the excitements bubbling up through her as she met these demands. But they had spent too long at Grimmauld Place, and it took everything she had to not open up to the shaky bliss of letting out the words she had within her, stifling her cries of ecstasy as Harry pushed on firmer. His refusal to slow down and his insistence on making her lose her mind pushed her to lose herself fully.

Hermione had to do everything in her power to not shriek out in bliss as she came, fingers tightening against Harry's head as she held him in tight, as she lost herself to the shaky, hopeless heat quivering through her. "So good, so good, so good," she whined rapidly under her breath, a dizzy mess bucking and heaving against him, unable to control the frantic descent leaving her frayed, ragged, breath tight and weird as she felt herself utterly desperate. Her hips bucked and shuddered, and Hermione found herself in a slumping state of weary heat, going limp finally on the seat and leaning back. "So much," she whined, staring down at Harry with a big, hopeless smile.

There was no restraint or sense in the way that Harry drew back and eased up toward her. He took his place beside her, right up at her side as he pulled her in close, having the space now to do it, and he happily sought out her kiss. Hermione sighed, slumping against him and nestling lovingly against her boyfriend, delighted to have him reassure her. As long as Harry was there to keep her company, Hermione felt pure delight, a joy and a relief she had no reason to be afraid of. "Thanks," she said sweetly, nestling in against him as they approached through the deep winter dark toward Hogwarts, their lives soon to return to normalcy.  
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It was only the second day of class, and their second day in Transfiguration, when the homework they'd handed in was returned and graded. Hermione had been tense about this moment, worried about the reveal and surprises awaiting her as she found out just how well she had or hadn't done in copying Harry. But as she looked down at the paper, the note proved a delightful little surprise. Her 'Outstanding' grade was still intact, while the teacher's notes said, "Despite being only half a page longer than required instead of five pages, your work remains at the top of the class."

Hermione couldn't believe it, staring down at the realization with a bright, burning excitement, with a relief she was all the happier to witness. More than still delivering a high grade, shorter was easier for her teachers to grade; she often brought overcomplicated and wildly divergent papers, citing materials far outside of the curriculum and providing intense footnotes and citations to back up her arguments. They were airtight, but often so far out of her teachers; desires to deal with amid all of the other papers that had to be read and graded. It was hard for her not to read that note as holding some barely held back degree of relief, as if encouraging her further into that direction. She didn’t mind it.

Rising from her chair, she flashed a smile at Harry as they left the classroom together. "We got an O," she said, walking happily beside him. "You got me an O."

"It would have felt awful if you got an EE because of me," Harry said. Mostly as a joke, but he never felt that Hermione getting 'exceeds expectations' would not have been a curse worse than death, given that she had once rated death below expulsion on a list of horrible outcomes. "But we did it." Once they got out of the room, Harry guided Hermione gently up against the wall outside the classroom, pushing in against her with a kiss, blatant and eager in the way he offered his affections up, blatantly kissing his girlfriend in the halls. The acceleration of their relationship and the more overtly public nature of these adorations had reached new heights.

Hermione remembered watching lots of movies growing up where the asshole jock would put his hot, popular girlfriend against the wall and kiss her after class. In those movies, Hermione always sympathized with the unpopular smart girls for reasons that made ample sense, but now, with her Quidditch playing boyfriend making out with her right outside McGonagall's classroom, there felt like no denying what she had become. She even lifted a foot up to brace against the wall as she tugged him in tighter, accepting that the reversal of fortunes had turned her into the very sort of girl she'd always despised in movies.

"Hey, I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" asked a voice very much interrupting everything, as Lavender stopped outside of the classroom, the last one on her way out, to look at Harry and Hermione. The blonde was as bright and bouncy as she had ever been, and as Harry turned to look at her, his eyes drifted toward the low-cut top and her ample cleavage. He didn't want to look, but with every motion of her arms, they shook a little bit too much for him to not look back down at them, to keep drifting into them. "Hey Harry, hey Hermione. I wanted to ask about uh..." She looked around nervously, making sure nobody was around before saying in much more hushed tones, "The meetings."

Harry's hands lingered on Hermione’s waist as he looked at Lavender. "You're not interrupting anything," he said. "What do you want to know?" As he asked, he remained entirely unaware of how Hermione could tell where his eyes were going.

Lavender was chipper as could be, eyeing Harry with a big smirk as she let her hands trail along his arm, gently easing it off of Hermione's hip and toward her. "I had a lot of fun with those meetings, and learning all that stuff the school didn't want us to know. We just started back again, but I hope they come back soon."

"You're enjoying learning that much?" Harry asked, his smile broadening as he tool her closeness perhaps a bit too closely at face value.

"I guess it helps when I like the teacher so much." She tugged his arm between her breasts, squishing down against them as she leaned against his body. "You make learning self-defence so much more fun. A-and Hermione, you too, of course. Both of you." She realized a bit too late what she was doing, catching the firm gaze upon her and not knowing how to respond to it. She'd gotten a bit too snug and cute for her own good here, and she let go of his arm a little bit.

But the damage had been done. Hermione had seen that squish. It inspired a swell of hopeless jealousy inside Hermione, a burning heat that she was absolutely not ready to be confronted by. There was no good way to express how she felt, her body lacking anything that could squish like that at all. As Harry looked back to her to remark on how they made a good teaching team, he saw instead the way she stared daggers at Lavender, and had the smarts to ease his arm back and shift instead to face Lavender head-on, leaving no part of him easily tug-able. "We'll start back soon. I haven't made my mind up yet about when, we all have to settle back into schedule with school. But I don't want it to be too long, we'll all need practice after break."

"Great, just let me know!" Lavender said, trying to play off the little brush-up like it was nothing. "I'll see both of you later." She tried to play chipper as she skittered off, but Hermione had already seen too much and gotten too wound up in her own frustrations; she was going to need to take some drastic measures on this one.

"I'm glad we're getting through to people," Hermione said, a curt and ice breaking remark, one meant to keep Harry from thinking she was worried about anything. But on the inside, she was torn between internal screaming and molten jealousy. She’d need to find some way to prove herself. Have to find some way to make sure Harry's eyes stopped drifting. Not into Lavender's chest, or Susan's, or Daphne's. Not anybody else's. Only hers.

Only problem was, she needed a chest.  
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What Hermione did to doll herself up was subtle. Even directly inspired by Lavender earlier in the day, she didn't have the kind of skills needed to pretty up her make-up that much; lipstick was a lot of it, something easily applied and that could make her feel a bit better. She didn't know where to begin with a lot of other things, but she felt confident enough to start up with this, to ease her way into a little more. The real draw was in her lingerie, as she pulled out one of the sets she bought when shopping with Harry to try and draw his gaze to her body far more readily. A lacy bra and panties set cast in bright red gave her a confidence boost, while a pair of matching stockings and garters emphasized her legs. Hermione's body looked as good as it could possibly look in these clothes, as she cast her robes off and advanced upon Harry with a big smile and a readiness to adore him.

"What's the occasion?" Harry asked, delighted by her arrival and by the way she pressed up against him, so sweet and steady in her approach. His eyes fell upon her with a wild need to seek her out, fingers trailing along her body as she pushed against his body.

"I want to try something new," Hermione rumbled, losing herself in her kisses against him, fingers tightening against his body as she stared at him in hungry and reckless delight. "I think you'll really like it." Her lips drifted down and kissed her way down his strong chest, Harry twisting under the excitement, his cock throbbing in her hand as she discovered just how much tending to his muscles excited him. It wasn't her plan, but it was a good thing to know, as she worked her way lower, hands drawing back from his lap and seeking instead to unclip her bra, taking it off just as quickly as she had put it on and exposing to Harry her waiting, ready chest.

Hermione's chest was nothing special, in her eyes. A pair of perky little Bs that didn't form anything exciting, didn't look enticing in a sweater or grant her any perky cleavage she could flaunt. It gave her plenty of reason to be envious of girls like Lavender, and for that envy to turn to throbbing jealousy whenever Harry paid them any attention. His eyes were blatant in his appreciation of busty girls, something she'd seen plenty in the past, something that other girls had clearly seen too given how much they weaponized it, but now that she was with him, she had a bit of a complex over it.

Tonight, she'd change than. Her hands grasped her breasts and squished them together as she reached the point where they were level with his cock. "Just relax," she cooed, pressing down against his cock and trying to wrap her breasts around him. Hermione would give him a titfuck, would prove what she could do and how good she could make him feel. Then, he'd appreciate smaller breasts and not be so taken by Lavender's pillowy temptation. "I'll make you feel amazing."

Harry lay there letting her go at it, his fingers running through her hair just as he always did, appreciating the new, long-tended-to smoothness and softness that he had come to accept as a normal and expected way for it to look. Hermione's enthralling, gorgeous presence brought him all the satisfaction and the intrigue he needed, but more than that, it brought him a state of need and hunger that he was all too happy to lean into. "I can't wait to see what the surprise is," he said, completely oblivious to the fact that this was the surprise.

Hermione tightened up in utter shock as she heard those words, as she realized Harry didn't 'get it'. With nervous blinks and a winding sense of complete panic taking her, she didn't know how to respond, not quite certain that she could say in response to this if he didn't understand it. She tried to move firmer, rubbing her breasts against his cock, trying with motions that, as she stubbornly rubbed and pushed, she discovered with woefully approaching worry simply weren't sexy. She tried her best, but Harry remained unaffected and completely unsure, leaving her confused and on the spot.

"Is this..." Hermione didn't feel much joy in how he pushed against her. His cock wasn't reacting at all, hard from the touch, sure, but not a damn thing more than that. It was all the more reason to worry as she looked at him. Harry didn't look angry or impatient, just confused, like he was still waiting for the surprise. It made her cheeks burn, the worry steepening as she discovered her chest was such a non-entity that she simply failed to make him think that this could be the surprise.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked. She’d stopped entirely, Hermione lingering there and doing nothing to respond, as the weirdness grew.

Hermione had to bury her concerns in hasty nods. "Yeah, it's fine. Sorry, I Just got distracted by class, and I guess I got on autopilot." In her haste, Hermione had to oblige and pivot to something else, and she realized that she'd gotten more reaction out of Harry for kissing his muscles than she had for trying to give him her hopelessly failed titfuck, so she decided to double down. Her tongue dragged along his defined abs, dragging along them as she wrapped her fingers around his cock. "The surprise is that I'm so taken by the big, muscular body of my hunky boyfriend that I'm going to worship his body all over with my tongue."

Immediately, Harry's cock responded in kind, pulsating under even the caress of her fingers as she held him, and Hermione understood now, doing her part to keep pace and give Harry a pleasure he could appreciate. She felt like she had to do something, had to bring him some kind of satisfaction as she pushed into this deepening, stranger state of desire. There was so much on the line and so much pulling her deeper into this bafflement, but Hermione had to do her best to keep up with it, had to meet this with a ready, head-on desire.

Kisses and licks against his muscles were a nice compromise. Hermione hardly minded the idea of worshiping Harry's body, licking her way up his chest and dragging streaks of saliva in her wake. Her hand worked with careful and greedy motions along his cock, letting her tongue work be the accent and the affection to push him on. All the while, she brought a pleading, staring need that she was able to translate into pure arousal, her painted lips making kissing motions when she wasn't licking. "Your body is amazing," she whined.

Harry couldn't hold back the raw, vocal delight that hit him, his body twisting under wild desire and hopeless greed. He was happy to take it on, to feel her tongue cress along his chest, his arms, even nestling in under his armpit and licking him all over. She was almost out of control as she worshiped his body, paying him the praise and the devotion that made his decision to get into extreme shape suddenly so much more amazing and exciting than it had yet been. Harry wanted more of this, wanted to keep falling in deeper, sinking into a warming haze from which he didn't think he cold pull back. "This is an amazing surprise."

Knowing she had been able to pivot cleverly into something Harry could appreciate without a second’s hesitation did make Hermione feel a little better. Not better enough, but she did know she could still bring her smarts in to save face, keenly identifying a better way to pleasure Harry and pushing in to give it to him. Hermione knew she could grant him utter satisfaction, and worked to push his limits. She needed more, moaning, "I'm surprised that such an amazing specimen of male power would love having his muscles worshiped," Hermione moaned. "But you deserve it. You use your strength to help people, and stand up for what's right; it deserves to be loved." She stroked faster, her praise for him making his cock throb, dripping pre all over her hands and still begging for more. Hermione's desperate save had turned into purposeful ecstasy and relief for Harry, whose fitful, groaning delight hid her mishaps.

When Harry came, it was with a hard groan, her lips slithering around one of his nipples, and his cock erupting all over her modest chest. "You’re too good to me," he moaned, head rolling back hard against the pillow as he opened up to the satisfaction, as he felt the wanton pleasure rush across him and indulge in him with a fever and a bliss he had no hope of fighting against. It was remarkable, and its power expressed the hopeless joys across his being, plunging him even deeper into something that felt insatiably potent, sweet and powerful and making him mad with desire. "Fuck," he groaned as his climax worked through him, until he was left a groaning, shaky mess of pure delights. "That was amazing. And you look gorgeous right now. I'm so lucky to have you."

Hermione's smile couldn't help but widen as he praised her, as his fingers caressed under her chin and she melted into the touch and the warmth of his affection. Harry had a way of making her feel better no matter how frustrated she was. For a brief moment, Hermione didn't feel bad about her small chest, she felt loved, adored, and guided up toward his lips, Harry eager to kiss her and pull her in tight against him.  
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Hermione came back to the girls' dorm early that night, robes open and her lingerie back on, lipstick smeared off of her face, Lavender and Parvati both still up as Hermione did the most drastic and wild thing she had ever done before. "I want you to help me be hot," she confessed, standing there feeling like a mess.

Both girls' brows perked right up at the thought of her abrupt arrival. Lavender looked to Parvati, then back to Hermione, then down to her feet. "This is my fault, isn't it?" she asked, cheeks burning.

"Oddly perceptive for once," Hermione groaned, walking into the room as she tugged her robes shut again. "I'm not mad. I've heard you talk enough times about respecting relationships and not stealing boys away, but it's hard when I notice how Harry's looking at your chest and when I see you with make-up on and hear boys talking about you."

Lavender scoffed. "Hear boys saying what? That I'm hot but too clingy, and they'd fuck me if they thought I wouldn't expect more out of them?" Lavender was a girl who knew how to look good and knew how to turn heads, but she was also a blatant, pushy romantic who wanted more from guys than the casual sex her ample body wanted from them. All the boys Lavender drew attention from were just horny, young, and not ready to be mature like she wanted. "You really want that?"

This was why it was hard for Hermione to be mad at Lavender for any of this, taking her place on the side of Lavender's bed with a nervous sigh. "I know it's not that easy, but I've heard a lot worse things from people talking behind my back than that. All I really want is to be able to turn Harry's head the same way other girls can. He loves me for my mind, and I'm happy for that, but every time some girl walks by and sweet talks him or he pulls them up during practice and they swoon over him, it makes me wonder why I can't get those reactions from him, too. And if it makes some asshole seventh year comment on my legs instead of on my parents being muggles, I'll take it."

It was Lavender's turn to feel the sympathy now, realizing how much her fate wasn't so bad compared to Hermione's in that regard, and she found herself having to accept it. "I can teach you," she promised. "Teach you how to make boys react, teach you how to look good. I can show you how to do make-up, too. Your lipstick was applied well, but your shade is all wrong for the natural look; you'll either want a different tone, or to add more make-up. We can talk about all of those things."

"What about clothes?" Hermione asked. "I picked up some things over break."

"Show me." Lavender's smile brightened at the thought, and before she knew it, Hermione was involved in 'girl time' on a scale she had never imagined before, fishing out the muggle clothes she picked up and showing them off. "Oh, I like them. Were these to impress Harry?"

"A little bit."

"You have a better eye for style than I thought. You should go firmer on it. Dress tighter. Maybe a little skimpier. It's winter, so you'll have your robes on all the time, and you can wear them shut until you have the confidence to show it off."

"Show what off?" Hermione asked, gesturing toward her general lack of anything. "I have no ass, and my attempt to give my boyfriend a titfuck just made him ask me what I was trying to do."

Lavender clapped a hand over her mouth to try and style a giggle, Parvati’s head veering into a pillow to do the same. "Oh no," the blonde squeaked out. "You poor little thing. But it's okay! It's okay. You can still get his attention. Tight clothes aren't just about showing off what you have, they're about confidence. You're not hiding anything when you dress to fit your body, and that comes across."

"Didn't you tell me about magic for that, too?" Parvati asked. "A few months ago."

"Oh, right!" Lavender snapped her fingers, trying to remember. "What was it? Uhh, body modification magics! I remembered hearing about it from my older sister over the summer. She's a stylist, but someone came in asking if they could perform some transfiguration spells on her body, and when she said she couldn't, the lady got angry and started screaming. I don't know much about the magic, but if you want to look into it, maybe you can get some bigger boobs, too."

"Bigger boobs with magic," Hermione said. It sounded insane. "I don't know about that. That's a lot. For now, I think I'll stick to the clothes. I bought some training heels to go with it, do you think I should start wearing them?"

"Definitely. Start tomorrow. You won't be comfortable in them if you don't practice."

Hermione had never felt so grateful for Lavender, nor so close to her. Lavender was a straight A student--which was to say, Acceptable--and Hermione was the kind of insufferable smart girl who felt like she'd talk circles around the other girl. But now, they had a shared interest, and a common point through which, maybe, Hermione could spent more time being friends with another girl her age.  
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The very next evening, Hermione was in the Restricted Section. She used her prefect status to gain access and began to peer around, insisting she was doing some extra credit work, and Madam Pince had no reason not to trust Hermione as she stepped in and explored. With purpose, she was off looking for books that could offer some hint from their title that sexual or body-altering effects lay within. She did so with a fair amount of make-up on, her tighter jeans, a blouse hugging her upper body more tightly, and her heels at their shortest extent. It was a day of learning for her, as Lavender showed her how to apply make-up before class and she held it well all day from there. She'd made progress, but now she could push into another level still, if all went well.

Hermione left the section with a stack of books to take out. Nothing too unusual. For the sake of appearances, she took several normal-seeming books with her to hide her true purpose. The Transfigurer's Dream, Fundamental Perception Of Self In Magic, and Histories Of Advanced Transformation helped obscure the nature of A Lover's Guide To Magic, Potions For The Bedroom, and Becoming Who You Wish. Madam Pince let her check them all out without a second's hesitation or consideration, the inherent trust Hermione had from the school's faculty becoming the means by which she pulled off her grift, and in short order, she had all these books to go study with in her room, ready now to feel out the possibilities.

Several nights of lengthy research followed. Hermione had done these sorts of things before, ample trips down vast volumes of homework. But this wasn't homework, this was entirely extracurricular, and not with any lives at stake like there had been before. Hermione was on the path to try and sort out and solve a mess of ideas that far exceeded anything sensible, but that was fine, as she cracks open her book and began to read.

A Lover's Guide to Magic was, naturally, the spiciest of them all, and it turned out to be a recreation of a much older book, providing a plethora of translation notes and contexts to an old tome written in Latin, which only deepened the promise of the book. Contained inside were rituals, a plethora of not spells but all-out rites that could be performed to attain beauty and the ideal physical form. The problem was, these spells came with a cost. Each ritual spoke of something to be forsaken in exchange for its gifts, with the steepest costs for the best effects. These prices included intelligence, sexual restraint, memories, and even one's own magical abilities. To become prettier, Hermione would have had to become dumber.

"That seems almost too fitting," she sighed, lamenting the state as she turned the page and read on, shifting through the book and failing to find very much that could help her. She kept reading, kept skimming. It didn't get her very far, as she continued to move through these pages and discover an overall lack of anything here she could properly use.

The next night, she cracked open Becoming Who You Wish. It only deepened her concerns, making some mentions to 'perceptual self-improvement' in, funnily enough, Fundamental Perception of Self In Magic, but Hermione brushed those off as she kept reading, looking for spells. "I just want boobs," she complained as she moved through the book, only to find that there seemed little in the way of options here. There were a lot of spells here, but all of them carried the same costs, if not steeper ones. She had nothing in front of her that made her feel better about what she was doing, frustrations growing as the idea wore her down.

Hermione did have one option ahead of her. An expensive one she didn't would be very viable at all, but her desperation grew as she tried to think around these possibilities: implants. Muggle surgery to give herself the hot body she wanted so sorely at any cost. It was insane to think about, even with how desperate she was to find some good, reasonable way to get what she needed, and she hadn't any idea how she could do that or where she'd find the money for it, but the idea was the only one that stuck out to her as she kept going, kept trying to read her way through these books full of warnings that one simply could not attain their desired form without an exchange of some sort. It worsened her concerns and her disposition as another night went up in smoke. Hermione was getting desperate.

Potions for the Bedroom thankfully offered Hermione something more akin to what she could work with. Its effects were all temporary to various degrees, potions to change herself that she would have to brew and drink small portions of daily to keep herself looking and feeling good. It was an oddly relieving and simple idea, though; Hermione found something soothing in the idea that she could find such modest effects. Nothing to make her a stacked bombshell, sure, but a potion to tame one's hair would save lots on the vast quantities of hair potions she was buying, while another intrigued her.

A potion to plump up her lips for a few months--with a small bottled portion of the potion portioned off for each week of its effect to top up its magic, sounded like a modest way forward. It was just the magical version of collagen, something she'd seen muggle women get before. As it was, her lips were already what she was using to pleasure her man, so it only made sense to focus on making them fuller, softer, plumper. She'd lose herself in kisses with him and draw her attention to his lips without trouble.

Before Hermione made it, though, she decided to finally look into Fundamental Perception of Self In Magic. Just in case. She had it here anyway, she may as well look at its secrets, and Hermione was absolutely startled by what she saw here; maybe this had been everything she wanted all along, reading to herself under her breath with awe.

"The inherent power of any wizard, whether they understand it or not, is the magical means by which their own personalities and their own beings dictate their appearance. No such effect is observed in muggles, but any magical being is naturally guided to exist as they wish to exist, or at least as their personality demands to exist. It is through understanding this notion and through the application of firm and certain intent that one can change their appearance, with one's own magical ability dictating the results and the duration of the effect. One who wishes for charisma will find their voice more commanding and their appearance more personable. One who wishes to be withdrawn will become meek and disappear into the background."

Hermione's mind rattled off a plethora f examples at once as she thought about it. McGonagall being so upright and so stern, Snape being a repulsive man whose very aura was one of pure hate, Ron as a glutton with his head off in any which direction, even Lavender as the outrageously pretty girl who brought with her the essence of peppiness and girliness. Everybody she could think of not only looked to match their presence, but in some way or another evoked that presence. Had it really been magic all along guiding them?

She thought especially about Harry, because she had seen his transformation. Once, he was an unassuming boy trying to vanish into the background and not be paid attention to by anyone, whether out of fear of his abusive relatives or because he was in a world he didn't understand. But over time, he changed; he was a Quidditch player form an early age, the exceptional hero who year on year continued to save the day. Last year, thrust into the spotlight of the Triwizard tournament, Harry had become the focal point of everyone's attention, and his dramatic return with Cedric's body in his arms could have only worsened it, paired with the sensationalist tabloid reporting that made him headlines across the wizarding world.

But more than perception, Harry's own mindset had changed. He wanted to get better after what happened to Cedric, done hiding and done scurrying away. He was ready to fight, and his intentions pushed his body as he directly compared his ability to do anything to his physical shape. His magic fed into it as he grew bigger, emphasizing a greater, more masculine presence far beyond simply the way he carried himself. Everything Harry did directly fed into this, and his incredible magical abilities brought on drastic effects. In turn, maybe that was why Hermione had been so dizzy and giggly, why she had been so willing to play at being the fawning, doe-eyed lover girl for him. He was simply different, and her feelings for him translated into accepting that side of him.

Hermione had the magic, too, though. She had ample ability, and now, with tis information, she wondered if intent was really good enough. She had scrawled tons of charts and recipes out into notebooks, transcribed things so that when she delivered the book back, she'd be able to transition right into making the most of it. Now, she was ready to transcribe pieces out of here, too, writing up a storm and making note of everything she could about intent and about will. She hoped that she could get the body she wanted out of this, and read up on how to channel her will and how to push her identity into what she wanted. How to project it better.  
**************************  
The Room of Requirement offered up to Harry more than simply the chance to practice and teach self-defence. He realized he could walk into it with another purpose, and turn it into a muggle style gym, the equipment simply there and waiting for him when he walked in with that purpose. The sometimes thick snow coting on the grounds outside kept him from having many places to run, and he took to getting his exercise indoors, working out every second day for several hours at a time. It was a good way to keep in shape and to keep on top of his demands to control. Harry was getting deeper into his workouts, getting stronger and better as his body grew more fit and he pushed himself further.

Off to the side of it, Hermione hung out with Lavender and Parvati. She felt oddly relieved to finally have female friends now, especially ones with overtly feminine interests, and now knew with full intent that leaning into this would help her magic. Over the weeks to come, she noticed herself changing. Not by much. Just a little bit. Her breasts got a little big bigger, almost up a cup size and straining against her tighter tops, butt filling out her jeans and pushing them further, her legs getting a bit of definition, getting a bit of strength to them. It was minor, but she felt herself developing a form, waist remaining slim but hips bumping out further against the sides of her jeans, leaving her wondering if she'd need more. It was progress.

It should have been something she was comfortable enough with, but girls started coming around Harry's workouts. Girls involved in Dumbledore's Army who had taken 'sudden interests' in physical fitness, given that Hogwarts only really taught flight and didn't do much for anything else. Harry was happy to show them just as they were happy to fawn over him, and Hermione found herself with plenty of competition for girls in tight workout clothes vying for his attention. She wasn't out of the woods yet, and she knew she'd need to do more, watching with burning envy, even making catty comments alongside her new friends.

"Susan Bones will never catch Harry's eye," Parvati insisted. "Not with those eyebrows."

"Her eyebrows? Look at her hair, it's so greasy that I'm afraid it'll catch fire if she gets closer to the candles." Hermione had never let quite so bitter and snooty a remark pass her lips, but Lavender and Parvati had proven bad influences on her.

Lavender laughed uproariously. "That's a great catch." She loved how sharp and incisive Hermione's comments would get; they were precision strikes from a distance, and maybe it wasn't right of her, but she fed and encouraged every shred of bitterness she could.

Hermione had another weapon on her side that took up a lot of her time: using her softer, plumper lips to worship Harry’s cock on the regular. She rationalized the more time she spent engaged in carnal thought and action, the more her body's changes could occur, so she threw herself into that. That involved less time studying, which also felt acceptable; time spent studying and focusing on rigorous academic excellence had in the past left her the plain but brilliant girl who didn't have a body she felt her boyfriend could appreciate. Now, she cat those aside, loosened up her studying schedule, and used her newly softened lips to suck all over his cock or take make-up lessons from Lavender, fresh with some make-up palettes sent from home on request, her parents surprised she wanted to wear make-up at all, but she was happy to experiment with it.  
********************************  
"Miss Granger, a moment?" Professor Flitwick said, calling to her and keeping her from leaving class quite yet. She walked up to him, striding more confidently in her now inch and a half high heels. She fed a bit more each week, just fractions of an inch so that she could keep her stride and learn her way into more confidence. So far, it went excellently.

"Sure, what do you want to talk about?" Hermione asked, happily stopping and pivoting to see what was going on. She was used to teachers holding her back a moment, often for extra work. It was almost never any problem she had to worry about, and she didn't treat it as such.

"I just wanted to warn you before the assignments go back next class that I have already graded yours, and I did want to ask if everything was okay, because your mark on it is an EE." 'Exceeds expectations'. It was the lowest mark that Hermione had received on anything outside of Divination class, a subject she had simply given up on after too long spent in frustration with it.

Hermione tensed up, but not as much as she would have expected after receiving such a poor mark. Not even a poor mark; simply poor by her standards. "Oh. I think everything is fine, I just got distracted. I've done a lot of preparation ahead of my O.W.L.s, and I'm taking more than anyone else in my year. I think that's all that got to me."

"Yes, certainly." The old man nodded. "As long as you feel okay. It's hardly a bad grade. I waws going to offer you a chance to do some extra work to bring it up, but if you're so busy, I understand. That will be all, Miss Granger."

"Thank you, professor." Hermione walked away from her teacher. High heels, make-up, plenty of catty 'girl talk' and time spent around her boyfriend. And all it cost her was going from the best marks in her class to marks better than most of the people in her class. Hermione couldn't argue with results like that, and maybe she had spent so long caught up in her worries that this was what she needed. With no studying at all, Hermione had turned in really good work, and she could keep that up, spend more time with Harry or with Lavender, spend more time preparing potions from the book she'd all but copied over by hand... If it wasn't hurting her academic performance, how could she care? She'd be fine. She was brilliant.

She was the smartest witch in her year. This only proved that fact to her. So, what would it matter if she loosened up a little bit?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this depravity, why not follow me on twitter https://twitter.com/nidoran_duran and get updates on my new and upcoming stories?


	4. Good Girls Turn In Sub-Par Homework

"Hermione, this is...," Harry said, scratching his head as he looked down at the paper Hermione had written. They were looking over each others' work for errors, something Hermione had once been a firm advocate for, but which now Harry had to say they should do as her focus slipped further and further away. Problem was, Hermione's paper was a complete mess. It was clumsy and rushed every which way, the mark of someone just trying to get the part finished and not have it be worth a damn, turned in for the barest completion marks. Which was someone he'd have expected out of some people, but not Hermione. "I'm sorry to say it, but this isn't up to your standards at all."

Hermione frowned. "Is it?' she asked, nervous, hanging on the edge as she looked down at the paper. "I'm sorry, Harry. I thought I did a good job."

"You should probably do this again," he said. "Something like this is barely a pass, and I know you can do better." He handed it back. "You're better than this."

It didn't make a lot of sense to Hermione, who sat there frowning and staring back down at the paper. Her work wasn't even up to Harry's standards, which shook her to her core as she tried to feel her way around the uncertain realization she had definitely made a mistake. She looked back at the paper, brow furrowing. Harry was just looking out for her work; she knew that immediately. Nothing untoward, nothing she had to worry about. This was all concern, and welcome, rightful concern. But it still stung; had she really bombed it that badly? Her eyes skimmed over the page and she could immediately single out multiple spaces she'd definitely made huge mistakes. Contradictory arguments, things said in one part of the essay but then completely forgotten in another, claims and connections she made that her immediate recollection of the source material.

"What did I do?" she asked in disbelief, startled and confused by how she had done this, how she had completely blown it. "Should I try to write it again?"

The slow nod Harry gave Hermione made her feel like she was just circling around the obvious. "No sexy times tonight, you need to rewrite your essay." Harry tried not to speak with intense judgment or condescension, but it was tough in the face of Hermione's poor performance. She was better than this, and he wanted to get across that she was, even as she squirmed about under his eyes and she fell into such a strange and dizzy sensation.

Hermione nodded. She knew what she had to do, and she accepted that she was going to have to just accept it. "I'll rewrite it," she sighed, re-opening her books and getting herself back to work.

"I'll leave you be." Harry placed a kiss on her forehead and headed down to the common room, where they had stepped away to get some quieter space to work. Hermione watched him go, sighing and tugging her books back open leaning over her bed and starting in on the work ahead of her once more, knowing she didn't have much of a choice but to try and rewrite her paper. She sat uncertain and tense as she did so, knowing this wasn't quite right.

When Hermione looked over the page before, it was fine. It was good, even. She could sit there, take in all the information, and get her ideas across on the paper. She could read quickly but retain plenty of details without a whole lot of effort. But suddenly, hr efforts failed her; she had done this paper in all the same ways, but found that she couldn't quite make it work the same way. She went in again, finding passages and paragraphs she hadn't fully understood or didn't even remember taking in, and that confused hr more. How had she slipped this badly?

But now she understood. At a firmer glance, she was writing her way through the paper again, knowing how to avoid the mistakes she made. Hermione was still smart. She hadn't bargained away everything like the books in the library said she'd have to. She did feel a bit sexier, noticed her breasts growing albeit only slightly, but she was not a full-blown bimbo with no clue what was happening. Hermione was still herself, and she would back on track just fine. She wrote everything out, overcoming her mistakes and learning from them. That was what learning was about, right? In spite of everything, Hermione remained certain and confident, working to write out the things she knew would get her where she needed to be.

Hermione brought the paper back down to the common room for Harry to see, weaving around through people and finding him engaged in a game of wizard chess game he was winning handily. Harry was getting better and better at the game, even with little to no time spent casually playing it with Ron anymore. He was just getting sharper, getting smarter, and he brought that sharp eye to the tactics of the game. But even still, with Hermione leaning by him and asking, "Can you look over this when you have the chance?" Harry happily put the game on hold to help her out. She took her chance to sit in his lap, arms around his shoulders as she parked herself firmly and comfortably into position. It was a signal; she was his priority, and he'd drop a game in a second to sit and read her work.

Harry sat, taking in her work in utter silence. Hermione had once been in a similar position for him. When finally he spoke, he brought his ear to her lips, whispering so nobody else would hear, "Most of the paper is great. You have your work done, it looks good, but your arguments keep referring to the idea that Yetis share a genetic link with trolls and giants, but the books said that the evidence showing that is out of date and inconclusive." He handed the paper back to her, apologetic and nervous.

Hermione didn't need to be told what he wanted, but she knew he was right to want it. She couldn't possibly hand in a paper with such a horrible misrepresentation of the original point. She needed to do better, needed to sharpen up what she was doing and work on a better solution. "Right. I'll be back." She sighed, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you. You're the best." His help in keeping her on track was welcome, but she was getting incredibly frustrated with herself.

Back up to her room again, back into work. Now she knew where she had messed up, and she took a deeper read of the material. She wasn't reading with the focus she used to, which was odd, because usually even a light skim for her was a pretty intense and intent read. Was she just slacking off? She threw herself at the book again, now paying a lot more attention, even if took a little more effort, and as she wrote out her assignment, she was prepared to see this all through and sort out her frustrations in a smarter, sturdier way. She was still brilliant, she just got caught up in a bit of a down spell, she told herself.

But Hermione was faltering for some very real reasons. While still smart as could be, she was becoming more carnal, thoughts and priorities all shifting. Yes, her body was slowly, gradually gaining a bit more development, but her focus and desire for that came at the expense of a little bit of intelligence. Not much, just enough to make her have to work a little bit harder at this all. She'd be fine. She settled in and worked harder at what was happening, nailing down the frustrations and coming back around on all of this with a concrete idea of exactly how to handle this all. She rewrote everything, the third essay hardly a third draft and more of a third attempt to throw herself at a mark that she could accept.

Before she could even close her books, Harry came upstairs. It was late by then, the common room fun was over, and with a yawn, Harry said, "I hope I'm not a distraction."

"No, I just finished," she said, smiling up at him. "Do you want to read it over still, or do you want me to get your pants off and help you relax?"

Harry shook his head as he climbed up into her bed, steadily undressing himself as he tugged her in for a kiss against him. "I'll give it a look over, but it's late. No sexy time tonight."

All that work to get through it to his satisfaction so she could enjoy his company, and it had been for nothing. Hermione sighed, nodding and letting him look over the paper as she settled down into bed beside him. She could at least rest her head onto his strong chest and settle into the calm and the adoration of his touch. He was loving, firm, and patient. The hand not holding her paper ran through her hair, and even though she would have liked to get steamy with him, the chance to cuddle would be enough. She settled down against him, and her stress receded almost immediately. Harry's presence was calming, soothing, bringing her a satisfaction and a relief that helped her find a sturdy sense of exactly how to feel better.

When finally Harry was done, he set the paper on her bedside table. "That's the Hermione I was looking for," he said, the arm going around her as he turned in to face her, planting a loving kiss onto her lips. "You're brilliant, as always. You just had an off day, but your work came back." He gave her more kisses, sweet swells of affection and delight to warm her over and bring her back to the relief and relaxation he hoped would soothe all of her worries.

Hermione accepted his words. It was fine. It was all fine. She'd just lost a night with Harry was all. No big deal.  
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"Hermione?" was the first thing Harry said upon waking. He groaned and squirmed on the bed, rising up from his frustration and opening his eyes slowly, confused by what he felt, shaken from his sleep and slowly creeping his way into reality and into the realization that something was happening. Something was around his cock. Something wet and warm, unmistakably a mouth, and surely Hermione's, but it was first thing in the morning, and that didn't make sense to him.

But there she was. She was under the covers, lifting them up to peer up at him from below the blankets, smiling bright as she worked her head down his cock with a calm and sweet appreciation for his endowment. She was careful and adoring, bringing the pleasure and the heat that kept her giving in. Hermione playfully motioned for him to stay quiet, even as she sucked sloppier and needier on the thick cock she tended to with a firmer appreciation and delight, wanting to drive him mad and winding Harry up into the excitement of giving in deeper and more drastically to all of this.

The morning blowjob was a surprise, but one that Harry didn't exactly object to, holding tight and accepting this strange rush of pleasure and heat. he reached for the blanket and held it up to free up Hermione's hands, letting her work at it herself while he beheld the sweet thrill and decadence of opening up to all of this. He didn't know what to make of it, but he let her do it, accepting her loving touch as the inevitable and certain joy he craved, all while she worked harder to service him, making up for their lost time that night and helping her settle firmly down into being sucked off first thing in the morning. It was too good to resist.

Hermione let the confidence carry her onward. Seeing him looking down at her with such appreciative need under the excitement of waking up to the sight of her made Hermione feel loved and appreciated, kept her working firmer at this and embracing her deepest, most ravenous needs. Sucking Harry off and seeking the pleasure she craved was the most important thing to her now, but more than that, she wanted to thank him. Still not sure what came over her last night as she failed her way through her studies, Hermione wanted to be thankful and adoring to Harry, wanted to praise him for being patient and keeping her honest with her work, making her re-do stuff that hadn't been good enough. She wasn't used to having somebody taking such an active role in keeping her on track.

Taking it easy as he soaked in the joy of this slow, sloppy morning blowjob, Harry didn't let himself get too carried away, happily reclined back and watching his girlfriend at work. "I could get used to waking up like this," he said, not wanting to look away from the joyful sight of Hermione at work on his cock even though he wanted to close his eyes and lie back. It was early. He knew he could probably get a fair lot more sleep in. In truth, he could probably use all that more sleep, but the pleasure and the rising heat all came on hotter and bringing on something stronger and greedier.

Hermione made sure to keep pushing, made sure to let her silent cocksucking express all the passion and the need that carried her on closer and closer to bliss. She didn't know how to stop herself, didn't want to contain these feelings as they held her in the tight grip of these utter desires. Desperate need and heat continued to sear through her, burning her up from within and leaving Hermione to seek out more and more of the passion and heat carrying her forward. She was determined, seeing through everything she did to Harry and winding him up to start his day off as amazingly as possible.

"Shit," was all Harry groaned as he gave in, grunting hard and losing himself to the thrill of cumming in her mouth. He tugged her head down, an instinctual little pull to make her wake up as he hit the back of her throat and let loose his load. He didn't shy away from giving in, vocal and hot as he shuddered his way through giving in, left aflame with warm, gooey joys that had him relaxing slowly down onto his pillow again, eyes closing. "Thanks, 'Mione."

"You can go back to bed if you want," Hermione said, drawing slowly back from his lap and nestling down against his thigh. she didn't linger long under the blankets, crawling her way up his body again and settling her head into his neck. "I just wanted to surprise you."

Harry tugged her in tight. "Well, I'm surprised," he said, but just as readily slipped back into slumber, going quiet and falling asleep with Hermione snug against him and savouring how warm he was, falling slowly back down into sleep, too. Harry brought her an unmistakable peace, and she was always happy to sink her way back into the calm surrender of being loved and cared for as she returned to the world of relaxation and quiet.  
**************************  
One night of bad homework was easy to write off, but Hermione discovered that even after a few days, she was working extra hard, putting in a bit too much focus, just to stay where she was. Just to sustain a quality of work that used to come naturally to her. Something had to be amiss here, right? She decided, since she hadn't made any deals, to look into Fundamental Perception of Self In Magic once more, although she paid a quick visit to the potions book she had been using her limp plumping potion from, just in case there were side effects. She had not found any.

So instead, she gave a closer read to Fundamental Perception of Self In Magic. Maybe she had missed something. Maybe the problems with focusing while reading and her recent habit of skimming over important information had cost her insight, and the book wasn't a root cause of anything, but was the closest she could get.

"The distinction between innate change and intentional change is where the magic's truest issues emerge. Although nowhere near as drastic as spells that bargain one thing for another, how we present and how we are is still a matter sitting atop the scales. To wish to become more beautiful or more intelligent is to become less of something else. Rather than being shaped by your experiences, you surrender what is most present within you, in small amounts, to feed what you desire."

Hermione didn't need to think on it. Leaning slowly back, she let out a long, drawn out sigh. "Fuck," she said, trying her best to relax and think this all through. Her boobs were growing. She was getting a bit more of a body that might be able to hold a guy's attention. Nothing insane, nothing huge. She couldn't give her boyfriend a titfuck yet or anything, but she was getting there. But to do so had taken from her some of her focus and her work ethic. Her strongest traits were what was being given in exchange, and she didn't even realize until it was too late, her eyes widening and the steadily drawing panic hitting her. Without realizing it, Hermione was cutting deals anyway.

She told herself to breathe, forcing her shoulders down closing her eyes. Hermione had to calm herself down from this, had to lean away from the tensions and the fears that could otherwise has been her absolute undoing. She wanted to be better and more capable than she felt like she was in this state, avoiding the ugly realities and uncertain implications of everything she had opened herself up to now. It was a lot to take in all at once, her sweeping panics and concerns leaving her feeling compromised. She didn't know how to deal with the prospect before her now.

Hermione was going to have to make a choice here. She knew she had a lot in front of her, had a lot of things to try and comprehend as she looked down at the page again. She could pull back from this, stop her active desires to be more attractive and to 'develop' more. She could leave it all behind, go back to being the bushy haired nerd girl who Harry fell for on her own merits. Stop using these potions to plump her lips and tame her hair. Stop wearing her training heels. She could drop every shred of vanity from her life and push against all of it in the name of finding a return to the normal, sensible things she was sure would have been better for her in the long run.

But was it really so bad to look nice? Even if t came at the expense of something like her academic performance, it wasn't really that bad, was it? Hermione's work wasn't going to slip too badly. She could put in the extra work and focus on what was happening, and Harry was taking his homework and hers more seriously. There was no need to fear all of this; she was going to be okay. Hermione knew she could get through this all just fine, knew she was going to be able to pull off a great exam performance regardless of what was going on and how much this was happening.

"I have intelligence and work ethic to spare," she told herself. She closed the book. It felt simple enough. She just had to make a choice, and she'd made it. Was she comfortable with it? She didn't think so. The still, awkward silence was entirely self-enforced, as Hermione's thoughts swam through the dizzy emotions and pressures that hit her, the idea of completely losing herself and not caring about what she was giving in to. It was a weird and probably dangerous path to walk down, and she could feel the tension sweeping up from deep within her as she gave in as hard as she did. But she didn't fight it, fingers tightening against the book as she accepted these pressures and the insane idea that yes, she was willing to make these sacrifices.

For Harry? For herself? That was the part she wasn't so sure about.

"Oh, there you are," came a voice. Lavender sidled up behind Hermione. 'I knew we should have looked in the library for you."

Hermione moved on instinct, shifting some books around, turning the sex potion book so the spine and the title emblazoned upon it faced away from her. She moved things around to hide what she was reading while turning toward Lavender. "I didn't know you were looking for me. Sorry about that. What do you need?'

"I need to be the teacher now," Lavender said, hands squeezing Hermione's shoulders, excitable and greedy. "You missed a late package arrival to the dorm room. I know I shouldn't have looked at it, but I couldn't help myself, and you wouldn't believe what I found. Muggle make-up addressed to a certain someone." She slipped quickly down into her chair, Parvati taking a seat on Hermione's other side. "You should have told me!"

Hermione's cheeks lit up. " I wanted to keep it a surprise. Just a little bit. I was going to ask you guys for help once I was sure I wanted to do it."

"Well are you sure?" Parvati asked.

"Of course she's sure. That make-up looked way too nice for her to be on the face about it. Right Hermione?'

"I'm pretty sure," she said, smile growing wider. "You wouldn't mind helping, right? I don't know the first thing about make-up."

"We get to be the ones to help you out," Parvati said. "We'll show you how to put it on, and the charms to keep it on."

"And I won't look--" Hermione's eyes darted around. Just as quickly as she fretted over what her newfound vanity was doing to her, Hermione was getting caught up in make-up talk instead, cheeks going bright enough to not need any embellishment at the moment. "It won't make me look like a tramp, right?" Her eyes darted back and forth, but she immediately panicked into a doubling-back with, "Not that you two do, of course. I don't mean it like that, I just--"

Both girls placed hands onto her shoulders and told her to calm down at the same time, and Hermione nodded, taking a deep breath. She was anxious as could be in the wake of what she had been doing, and now she was getting wound up too tightly to think clearly. "I think you would look really good with a 'natural' look to start with," Lavender explained. "The differences will be more subtle, and you can practice it on yourself without looking too crazy. Once you feel confident with that, we can start you up on some other stuff. How does that sound?'

"That sounds really nice." Hermione blushed furiously, relaxing into the calm of the moment and the relief of having this attention upon her. "Thank you both. I need to put these books back, but once we do, I don't mind heading upstairs to do this with you guys."  
*******************************  
Hermione sat atop Harry's thigh, grinding on his leg as she lost herself into his lips. Her make-up did the trick just fine; he noticed that she was done up, noticed the bit of blush on her cheeks and the toner, but she had a lot of other stuff on, the make-up spell she had learned helping her keep all of that under wraps as she made out with her boyfriend, his hands all over her ass as she ground against him. He complimented her make-up at first, even if he was surprised to see her wearing it, and once homework was finished, he tugged her in against him with an insistence and a desire as firm as could be. She wasn't sure he had been quite this forward and aggressive in tugging her in for some time, but she was happy to know it was working out.

"You don't need to do make-up to impress me," Harry groaned, "but you do look amazing." He didn't want to diminish how much work she'd put in, or how genuinely gorgeous she looked. It was a weird middle line to walk, enamoured by how much Hermione pulled him in and wanting to do what he could to savour all these wicked indulgences. The subtly sexier and sexier appearance she took on was having an effect on him, and he didn't realize either the scale of her efforts to advance that, or the fundamental ideas of the magic behind it. Her was already primed to be attracted to Hermione and love her, so her putting out more of that energy had a magnetic effect on him.

His hands kept moving, feeling up her body, not noticing outright how much her breasts had grown into nice handfuls for him to feel up and indulge in, but he was happy to grope at them, to toy with her nipples as she pressed tighter into him. Harry was all over her, and Hermione felt like she was on top of the world, grinding her dripping pussy and her sensitive clit against his leg, knowing she'd need more stimulation to get anywhere, but not minding that she'd have to wait as she let him take her. Not when he was so forward in his attentions. Hermione was usually the one all boy crazy and desperate to serve Harry, sloppily sucking his cock or worshiping his muscles. Noe, he was all over her, praising her light make-up and how nice she looked while unaware of how much she had on, praising breasts he didn't realize were growing. Fully under her spell, he gave up to her all he could, and it proved to be everything Hermione needed most.

Finally, he brought a hand between her legs, slipping it inside of her as he drew back from the kiss. "You're already the perfect girl, so don't go any further than you want to because it makes you happy." On that firm and confident note, he dove in to go for her neck, nibbling and sucking at it with the fever and the desire he wanted to make sure would get across the clear desire and heat pushing him on harder.

"You're too good to me," Hermione moaned, fingers tightening against him as he tended to her needy pussy, his digits pumping in with a steady, sturdy grace, winding her up for the satisfaction and the surrender of this pleasure. The moment was hot and it was shameless, bringing her to a distinctly hopeless sense of utter joy as she threw herself headlong into all of it. To feel Harry loving her, kissing and fingering her, groping her body through this whole treatment, brought on a wild satisfaction she knew she couldn't resist, giving in completely and accepting that nothing could make her happier than this senseless mess of passion did.

Hermione couldn't help but think about earlier in the day, about the book she had read and everything it had filled her head with. She wasn't afraid of it anymore, but the lingering idea did hang around in her thoughts that she had given to this willingly. Harry was all over her. A little bit of make-up and some slight changes to her body had drove him wild with ravenous desire. How could she say it was the wrong choice when she made the man she loved so happy and had him all over her like this, thereby making her happy? They'd done their homework together and Hermione got on fine; Harry said her work was good and then yanked her into his lap so abruptly that it seemed like she was simply trading a little bit of academic performance for a far more satisfying way to live, settling in to an even more desirable section of the spectrum.

She knew teachers were talking. She hadn't accepted an extra credit assignment from anyone for months, and her grades were slipping just the tiniest bit. Ironically, it was now, when she was starting to have a couple EE grades here and there, when such extra work would have been more important, but it didn't matter to her. That time was better spent here, better spent with Harry. She was still brilliant, and she knew this was all just a matter of keeping pace now on everything she had to do, wanting to find a good groove to settle into this with. 

Harry brought Hermione to a hot, sweeping rush of excitement, her arms tightening around him as his sensual adorations pushed her hard into the thrill she craved. Crying out his name and embracing the shaky ecstasies under the wild joy that hit her, Hermione accepted the wild plunge, losing herself to the shaky joys and thrills of having him push her over the line. It felt much too good to resist or contain herself, throwing all caution away and embracing her deepest, most frustrated desires. It was everything she craved wrapped up all in one tight, neat package, the pleasures driving her into an ecstatic heat and a desire unlike anything she could possibly hold on through. She felt amazing, and felt more certain now, rooted in the pleasures firm and forward enough to know that she was happier now than she could ever be in any other way. This was what Hermione craved, and what she was ready to live by.

Some sacrifices were worth making, and Hermione was confident now that she was on the right path for her.  
**************************  
Hermione wasn't expecting to be approached in the hall by Marietta Edgecombe. She was upon Hermione without warning, moving forward with a swift and aggressive intent that caught Hermione off guard, made her tense up as she marched right to Hermione and guided her off away from the flow of students, around a corner. "Is something wrong?" Hermione asked, worried about the grave nature of her approach and hoping that it wasn't something too bad. She only knew Marietta vaguely and through the Army, which made her worry that it was something Army-related that had her in such a state of concern.

"I want to make you a deal," Marietta said. "My mother works at the Ministry, and the more that Umbridge takes control of the school, the more afraid I am of something going wrong. I don't see what's in it for me here, and I'm afraid that if we're discovered, and I'm associated, that trouble is going to come to my mom. I can't let that happen."

There was a tension in Marietta's voice that made Hermione inherently more tense herself, shoulders rising as she looked at her. There wasn't concern or fear in her words; this was something else. "If you don't feel safe, we can find some way to help. Did something happen? Is your mom's job in any danger?" She was certain the answer was going to play out to a decision that Marietta was simply going to drop out of the group, which wasn't the ideal, but her concern now was mitigating any damage she might do. "Do you want to leave?"

"I'm putting everything into danger for a bunch of crazy people. Harry's saying all these things that the Ministry is saying aren't true, and I'm taking all these risks for him? I'm going to get something out of this. Leaving won't work, I've already given up too much. If you want me to keep quiet about this, then I want to have some time with your boyfriend."

"You want what?" Of all the things Hermione could have expected, at no point was this something she would have ever imagined being on the table. The drastic jump from not wanting to be there to blackmailing Hermione into time with her boyfriend was insanity. "Are you blackmailing us in exchange for sex?"

"I've spent so many nights stuck in a room I didn't want to be in, because Cho asked me to. I spent that time around someone trying to make us all afraid when the Ministry says nothing is going on, and now it has me afraid for my mom. I want something in exchange for that, and even if he's insane, Harry's pretty cute. Unless you're afraid he'll like me more, and he'll dump you once he finds out that some girls are naturally pretty and don't need to bury their real faces under tons of make-up."

Hermione's body tensed up. Her hand drew toward her hip in anger. The remark hit harder than it should have, spiking up more of the same jealousies that had driven her up the wall before. "You take that back," she said. "I'm not afraid of anything, but my boyfriend isn't a commodity I can 'share'. We're telling you the truth and the Ministry isn't, and I'm not going to be blackmailed by somebody who decided that they don't want to do the right thing."

"That's fine, you don't have to give him up. But I'm going to march right up to Professor Umbridge's office this evening and tell her everything, so you'd better make up your mind fast. You can all enjoy getting expelled and getting buried by the Ministry for organizing a secret group to work against it." Marietta wasn't mincing words here. Furious, tense, and with a million reasons to want out, she was looking to get back at Harry and Hermione; she didn't even have much interest in dating Harry, believing him at best delusional and at worst a manipulative liar. But a few nights underneath him sounded nice, and she could tear that relationship apart on her way out. A venomous and vengeful exit to make her happy.

"You don't know what you're doing," Hermione said. Her hand gripped her wand. She was getting ready to do something drastic and more than a little bit infuriating, but she felt like she had to act somehow.

Before she could, a hand imposed itself into the conversation. Daphne Greengrass stormed in, grabbing Marietta by the shoulder and the hair, and shoving her back up against the wall. "You aren't saying anything to fucking anybody," she hissed, eyes narrowing as she made a far more aggressive and impassioned argument than Hermione could. Her foot settled onto one of Marietta's to keep her from resisting or pushing away, as she used her strength and the element of surprise to almost effortlessly overpower. "Do you think the Ministry is what you need to be afraid of, Edgecombe?"

"What? I--my mother wor--"

"You and your mother will both be in a world of pain if I get outed to the Ministry," she said. "You'll have a lot more problems to deal with than just her getting fired. Even if I get expelled, I'll make sure your life is a living hell, and I will see to it that all of my friends keep your every day in this school miserable until the very end. My family will protect me, and that might mean hitting back against the idiot girl who got the future of the family expelled from school. That includes your mom. She might keep her job another week or two, but she'll find her way out of it before long. Or did she not tell you that she answers to one Astrid Greengrass at her work?'

Marietta's eyes widened in utter terror. The insistent and ferocious approach that Daphne stormed in with proved a far, far more intense threat than anything Hermione could have said or done to her, its effects immediate and effective to a degree that had her going pale in the face. Everything Marietta had been afraid of suddenly seemed much less intimidating than what Daphne was on about, and she shook under the confusion. "I won't say anything," she said, body trembling. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize--I'll. Hermione, can I just stop coming to the meetings? If I stay quiet, can we just pretend this conversation never happened?"

Hermione pulled out her wand. She had an idea on how to make sure things stayed this way. She'd put a spell into the contract that would jinx anybody who betrayed them. Marietta's name was on it, but Hermione wanted to make sure that she could double down on the threat. She waved her hand, chanting, "Luxinificance, maleficus treacharitum," and gave a little bit of flourish to the motion. Sparks flew up from the tip as she cast the first spell, a bright and colourful little party spell that wasn't in any of the curriculum, but had been in the charm books on the pages they didn't study--the book Hermione had devoured before her first year even began, knowing all the extra little side charms nobody else did. The second spell was nonsense. Completely made up gibberish that nonetheless, the first spell added an edge of realism to. She pointed her wand toward Marietta and held it there while the sparks harmlessly licked her face.

"What did you do?" Marietta asked. The double team threat of Daphne and a suddenly more confident Hermione had her visibly shaking.

"I placed a contingency hex on you," Hermione lied. "Just in case you're telling us what we want to hear but will run off to her anyway. I won't tell you what the jinx will do, but we'll be able to know immediately that you were a traitor. Everyone who looks at your face will know."

"I won't say anything." Marietta's fear continued to rise. She was trapped in a position of utter terror here, under the microscope in ways that filled her with ferocious dread. "I promise. Nothing. I'll say nothing to anyone. I'm going to keep this quiet, you can believe me."

"You will now," Hermione said.

Daphne pulled off of Marietta, but used her grip on her to shove her back toward the hall. "Watch your back," she told her, and proceeded to embed her shoe into the small of Marietta's back, forcing her away harder with all the bullying fever that Hermione was never going to muster.

Marietta didn't look over her shoulder, stumbling off in a terrified panic and leaving the two alone.

With the danger over, Hermione calmed down, even though the nervous, shouting voice in her head still wanted time. She looked to Daphne with a weary sense of shocked gratitude. She wasn't sure how to feel about the idea she had just been saved by Daphne Greengrass of all people, but it was better than nothing. "Thanks," she said, voice her voice dancing along the edge. She didn't yet know what to make of any of it. "I guess you were eavesdropping, but I can't get mad about that after what she did."

"It's a good thing I was, because you weren't doing a good job of making her afraid of you. You got into it once I got going, though. Maybe I can make a bad girl out of you one day, Granger. But don't think for a second I was looking out for you. I'm taking a million risks by being with you guys, and I wanted to make sure that she didn't rat me out. I have family who are Death Eaters, and if they found out about me being part of this, I'd be in a lot more trouble than anything I threatened her with."

"Doesn't matter why you did the right thing, what matters is that you did it." As one of the recurring victims of the 'Slytherin girl gang' bullying, it felt insane to claim that anything Daphne had just done was the 'right thing', but she lived in very strange times now, and there was no other way around it. The unsavory had to be done, whether it felt good or not. "I appreciate that."

"And how do you know I'm telling the truth?" Daphne asked. "Maybe I don't want her to rat me out because I'm already the spy leaking information. Maybe you're too trusting in believing I'm doing 'the right thing'. The hex you cast on her was nonsense. You aren't the only one who reads the charms book for things Flitwick didn't teach, you cast a silly light spell and used that to hide the fact you were bullshitting her."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "That spell was fake, but the one that I placed onto the member list I handed around wasn't. I needed to find a good way to warn her about it and intimidate her in case she decided to betray us anyway, but she volunteered her name onto that contract months ago, the jinx is already set. And so did you, so I'd say the fact you're still willing to show your face in public instead of hiding what it would do to you means you're sincere."

Daphne took a moment to soak it in. To consider if Hermione was telling the truth, or bluffing with her, too. "I always wondered why I was allowed to hang around as a Slytherin without you or Harry giving me dirty looks or keeping too close an eye on me. Now I get it. Clever. I think I like you more now. What a year you're having. Clinging to a handsome boy, doing your make-up, inching those heels a little bit higher every week... And laying jinx traps for snitches. Maybe you don't need as much help to become a bad girl as I thought."

"No, I'm fine being a good girl. I did what was important to protect what's right, and I'm just looking nice for my boyfriend."

"Everything I do is only to protect myself, too. We have more in common than you realize, but that's not what I want to talk to you about here. I did do the right thing, but I do want something out of it."

"I swear, if you're about to ask for Harry--"

"No, no. I'm not asking for anything right now." Daphne snickered. "This isn't about putting you on the spot. One day, I'm going to cash in a favour. That's all. You don't need to worry about it for now; the Army is very safe with me, and it will stay that way." Daphne drew back, giving a cocky strut as she slipped away, getting out of earshot, before turning around to note, "Oh, by the way. Snape's had your last paper sitting on top of the pile on his desk for a week now. I don't know if you noticed it's an EE, but he has it displayed pretty clearly. Might want to watch out; if he's trying to shame you, I'm sure someone who's a little less kind to you will start spreading rumours. But you can trust me." 

"Can I?"

"Is Pansy here right now calling you a loser?" Daphne left it at that headed back off, leaving Hermione to stand there frustrated beyond all sense. Daphne was toying with her, and yet she felt like Daphne was, in a weird way, someone she could trust. Things were only going to get stranger. That much, Hermione felt certain of now.  
******************************  
Every minute Hermione spent in the library was a minute she didn't spend with Harry, but more dangerously, a moment he spent with another girl.

The downside to studying taking a bit more work than normal was that Hermione had to actually put in that work. What used to come naturally to her was still very much achievable, it just required some thought, more referencing of her notes, more time spent reading back on information and trying to work out her thoughts. Her work wasn't overly long and excessive, either, though that was probably a plus as she worked her way further into these books and did what she could to accomplish the things she was all wound up with.

On the other hand, Harry was off training. Quidditch practice. Plenty of time for him and his athletic body to be the darling attention-getter of not only the girls on the team, but the girls who began to show up for him. His muggle style workouts had become a hit, and had his teammate going in on it too, as well as a gaggle of girls who wanted to coo and fawn over how strong he was. Hermione trusted Harry just fine, but especially after what Marietta tried to pull off, Hermione's jealousy was off the charts, and she was nervous about what other girls might do to Harry given the time alone with him. The fear was a potent one, and she feared nothing more than she feared the possibility that someone would try to make a move on Harry.

Finding a good middle ground between not rushing her work but also rushing her work was a troublesome task for Hermione, who felt like intentionally turning out shitty work just so she could spend more time with Harry was doing Harry a disservice, on top of herself. He'd also probably be buzzing through her work and end up noting the places she made mistakes anyway, which meant less time with him as she went off to do it right. It was a frustrating cycle she was trapped in, stumbling back and forth between radical extremes as her frustrations slipped further and further from her control and she sat there wasting away the minutes.

But the sound of a voice caught her by surprise. "Her paper was right there on the desk. The grade was only an EE." Hermione froze. Susan Bones was talking shit. Hermione knew it had to be about her; Daphne mentioned the test on display, and now that was coming around. She looked up from her book, leaned back, and listened to the girls chatting at a nearby table.

"No way." Another Hufflepuff girl, one Hermione didn't know by name, replied. "Do you think he did it on purpose?"

Susan said, "We all did that assignment a week ago; why would hers specifically still be there? I think he was trying to shame her, waiting for someone to pass by the desk and notice."

"I've heard she's not helping other students in her year as much, and when she does, she's giving worse advice," the girl Hermione didn't know said.

"And all that make-up." Padma Patil sounded a little disgusted. "Who does she think she's fooling with all of that? Flattening her hair, the new look... And she's probably stuffing her top, too. Some of the boys in my house talked about how she's 'growing,' and it's too sudden. She must be faking it."

"She's so boy crazy with Harry Potter. I bet she's not bothering to study because she's on his dick all the time. Maybe she's been trying to impress a boy with grades all this time."

Hermione had heard enough. She rose up from her seat and circled around, placing a single hand down onto the table and inviting herself into the conversation. "Let's get a few things straight here," she said coolly. "Padma, you let two boys in our class copy off of your work every day in Transfiguration for the past three years because you want to impress them, your sister is one of the people who helps me with my make-up, and if you'd like to spread lies about my boobs, I suggest you don't do it wearing a padded bra." She didn't want to be a catty bitch, but if she was going to be talked about behind her back, she didn't mind swinging. "Susan, you once cried because Snape spent twenty minutes humiliating you after you added too much pixie dust to a potion. He screamed at you through your tears and then made you work in a corner by yourself for three weeks. So maybe you should think about how cruel he is and how much he gets off on making students feel bad before falling for his game." She looked at last to the third girl, admitting, "I don't know you at all."

All three sat there wide-eyed and uncertain. Hermione had, in their understanding, simply appeared out of nowhere with harsh insults and firm observations meant to cut them down, and nobody had a good response to that. "Sorry," Padma said, squeaking out an apology the other two hastily replied with as they lowered their heads.

"That's better. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm trying to study in the library. Or, no, I'm sorry. I mean I'm trying to be on my boyfriend's dick. Silly me. I guess I'm just so stupid. Gosh!" She mockingly twirled some hair around a finger and played up a big, cartoonish reaction. "My grades are none of your business, but I am still in the top of our class. Don't forget that." But even as she pulled away, she felt like spending all this time protecting her reputation, social or academic, was a fool's errand. she knew she was getting a little bit less sharp, even if her cutting remarks could still dig deep. The padded bra remark wasn't even insightful observance, she just knew Parvati also had a padded bra and that her bust looked identical to her twin sister's.

But it worked. she had stood up for herself and pushed against all these frustrating remarks. She didn't feel as good about it as she would have liked, but it was progress, and Hermione could carry on from here knowing she had done her part and won at least a little bit. She just had a lot more fighting to do and a whole lot of concerns yet to be dealt with.  
******************************  
Harry wanted to spend Easter Break with Hermione, away from prying parental eyes, cramming for their exams while cramming as much time together as they could get. There was some homework to deal with, but not enough to make two weeks a complete mess, so ideally, they could spend plenty of time wrapped up in each other and enjoying plenty of back and forth oral indulgences. Hermione felt certain it was going to be everything they wanted, a combined rush of excitement and desire bringing them together harder. With a lot of the students heading off home, Hermione most importantly had far fewer distractions and bothers around, a lot of the girls who she was getting jealous of out of the way.

There was just one problem: all the fucking books. Harry had a new studying regimen in mind to make the most of their time, and she found herself now under the weight of everything she had once tried to drag the boys into. A taste of her own medicine, and Hermione wasn't sure she liked the idea of that too much, but she also didn't have much of a choice, ending up wrapped up in lots of study time. Time where she was sitting across from Harry and wasting prime private time with him being silent and sitting in books. Even with her work done, she didn't feel like she was getting ahead as Harry tried to keep them both on the rails.

Finally, a few days into the break, Hermione was at her wits' end and had to say something. "Do we really need to allot daily time to specific studying results?" She closed her book and let out a big, long sigh. She had to make it count. This was her only chance at pushing all of this away and maybe fighting off the tide of Harry's overly studious habits.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, surprised by the forward remark, not to mention the way Hermione was suddenly resisting spending so much time studying, still not totally sure how to rationalize her recent changes and general pulling-away from these situations.

"I mean hours spent studying doesn't magically raise our grades. You've been getting Os in classes you used to have trouble with and it hasn't been with all of this. Your grades can't get any better. I've been getting Os in things for years, too. I just feel like I'm finally coming around to realizing that maybe spending all my time with my nose in a book isn't helping anything." Hermione was making a case for coasting her way to high marks, and she knew it was a lot to swallow. She knew it doubly so because of how the past few weeks had been. Clever tricks to make the most of her reading time and be 'more efficient'--which was to say, studying less--while also borrowing Harry's work for guidance far more than she should have.

Harry knew it, too. he wanted to speak up about his frustrations with her and ask what was coming over her, even if it felt a bit rough to say. "You're advocating slacking off." He was incredulous. "Am I understanding that right?"

"I'm advocating re-evaluating my priorities. I used to spend a lot of time studying, and that came at the expense of a social life outside of you and Ron. Now, I'm spending a lot more time with other friends, and I'm spending a lot of time with you, and I think studying too much is just holding us back from enjoying each other more." She decided to take a drastic move in service of it, not wanting to let this devolve into a huge argument as she pressed against his lips, kissing him with a needy, feverish heat that brought her something good, but something she was ready to make stand even harder.

Harry was startled, and he found himself unable to argue against all of it, tensing up as she dove in and sought his lap, tugging his pants open and moving to seize his cock. She was unafraid of pushing on firmer, ready to make sure he calmed down and slipped away from the pressures that set them both aflame. All Harry mustered up was saying Hermione's name, otherwise allowing her to push against him, allowing these pressures and passions to burn up hotter through him. There was no holding back the unhesitating fire that followed, and he wasn't able to fight against what Hermione sought from him, melting under these frustrating heat and the pleasures driving him mad.

Hermione knew she had to do something special to make him calm down and get the talk off of all of this. Find some way to make this work. She had a titfuck waiting for him, but she wanted to hold that back; Easter gifts were to be exchanged in a couple days, and she wanted a proper titfuck to be the treat. But at the same time, she had to find some way to adore his cock in a way she hadn't yet, and she ultimately decided, as her fingers held the base of his cock, she realized what lay lower, and decided it was time to go.

With her free hand, Hermione effortlessly guided Harry to lie back, leaning down over his lap and signaling that it was time for sex now instead of studying, and as much as Harry felt like there was still pertinent issues to discuss, he didn't have a good way of arguing against what she was going for. Hermione's effective 'encouragements' were getting to him, and he got to see a new side of Hermione: a Hermione who weaponized her sexuality and got her way through the ample, focused desire to get her way. And she was doing a damn good job of getting him to come around, given that he wasn't doing a damn thing to stop this. It was almost impossible to fathom as she tried her best to woo and tempt him down.

Hermione dipped and sought to go lower than his cock, planting her lips onto his cock and diving in with the focused intent on sucking on his balls, winding up to indulge in him from a new angle as her hands tilted his cock forward and began to stroke, jerking him off with slow, patient delights and an indulgence she knew she could work at. She could feel his body tighten up immediately as she started to suck on his nuts, finding the flickering heat and fever of opening up to the sudden swells, panic-driven and needy as she zeroed in on everything she hoped would make him react and give up to her.

"Maybe spending more time out of the books is a good idea," Harry admitted. He felt like he had to; the growing pressures swelling through him made for an utterly hopeless rush of emotions rising hotter, burning and bubbling with the fever and the haze of giving in harder, the cloying ecstasy leaving him with a compromised sense of complete fucking desperation. The sensation of Hermione's mouth all over his balls with devoted fever brought on new pleasures, brought on emotions that swelled through him with a tighter, greedier intention to give up to all of this. Hermione had him stuck, had him craving more of the pleasures and the fevers that left him dizzily aching for more. She had a way of driving him mad, and he was powerless now.

Hermione made sure to suck hard on each nut, then to pull back and lick all over them, toying with him in a back and forth pattern that had him responding positively, given how much his cock throbbed in her hand as she worked to drive him mad. There was nothing careful or sensible here, calmness melting away in a show of greed and fever that reduced her to an increasingly panicked and frantic rush of absolute desperation. "I love your balls," she moaned. "Less time in the books means more time sucking on your big balls instead. Can't we both agree that's a good thing?" She kept up the pace, stroking quicker and coaxing more moans from Harry, winding him up with the passionate fire and the delight she knew was going to make this all play out in the most beautiful and intoxicating way. When she got him off, she'd lean forward, lick the cum off of his stomach and chest, and she'd have him wrapped around her finger.

Until the door opened.

Lavender stayed around at school, while Parvati had gone back home for the break, and Hermione had been far more lax with security and sneakiness in light of that. In particular, because they were studying when Lavender was last around and Hermione had been so blunt and forward in diving in to go for his dick, she hadn't left the scrunchie around the door knob that they all agreed would denote Hermione and Harry fooling around. He was a constant presence in their dorm room now--since Harry's room had four very loud boys inside of it to avoid--and Lavender and Parvati had mostly been okay with this, but this brought on waves of very sudden and succinct panic.

Mostly because Lavender was still staring right at the huge cock Hermione had in her hand.

"I'm so sorry," Lavender shrieked, but didn't do anything to move. Hermione made loud noises and didn't move either, leaving Harry to finally be the one to toss a blanket up over his lap and try to shield his decency for a moment longer, as everything came crashing down for Hermione and her sultry machinations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you enjoyed this depravity, why not follow me on twitter https://twitter.com/nidoran_duran and get updates on my new and upcoming stories?


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